all 


I 


-STORER:CIOUSTON 


"The  wicked  borraioelh,  and  returneth  not  again 


Of.  CALIF.  LIBHABY,,  LOS  AHGELES 


The  Prodigal  Father 


The 


Prodigal  Father 


BY 


J.  STOKER  CLOUSTON 

AUTHOR  "THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE," 
"A  COUNTY  FAMILY,"  ETC. 


Copyright,  1909,  by 
J.  STORER  CLOUSTON 

P*bluhtd,  September,  rgoy 


).  F.  TAPLEY  CO. 
NEW  YORK 


WITH  GRATEFUL  ACKNOWLEDG- 
MENT TO  AN  UNKNOWN  CORRE- 
SPONDENT WHO  ONCE  MADE  A  CER- 
TAIN SUGGESTION.  IF  HE  READS  THIS 
STORY  HE  PERHAPS  WILL  REMEMBER 

J.  S.  C. 


2128622 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 


INTRODUCTORY 

IN  one  of  the  cable  tramway  cars  which,  at  a 
reverential  pace,  perambulate  the  city  of  Edin- 
burgh, two  citizens  conversed.  The  winds  without 
blew  gustily  and  filled  the  air  with  sounds  like  a 
stream  in  flood,  the  traffic  clattered  noisily  over  the 
causeway,  the  car  itself  thrummed  and  rattled;  but 
the  voices  of  the  two  were  hushed.  Said  the  one  — 

"  It  's  the  most  extraordinary  thing  ever  I  heard 
of." 

"  It  's  all  that,"  said  the  other;  "  in  fact,  it  's 
pairfectly  incomprehensible." 

' '  Mr.  Walkingshaw  of  all  people !  ' ' 

"  Of  Walkingshaw  and  Gilliflower  —  that  's  the 
thing  that  fair  takes  my  breath  away !  ' '  added  the 
other;  as  though  the  firm  was  an  even  surer  guar- 
antee of  respectability  than  the  honored  name  of 
the  senior  partner. 

They  shook  their  heads  ominously.  It  was  clear 
this  was  no  ordinary  portent  they  were  discussing. 

3 


THE  PKODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Do  you  think  has  he  taken  to —  ?  " 

The  first  citizen  finished  his  question  by  a  crook- 
ing of  his  upturned  little  finger,  one  of  those  many 
delicate  symbols  by  which  the  north  Briton  indi- 
cates a  failing  not  uncommon  in  his  climate. 

"  It  's  a  curious  thing/'  replied  his  friend, 
"  that  I  haven't  heard  that  given  as  an  explana- 
tion. Of  course  he  's  not  a  teetotaler  — 

"  Oh,  none  ever  insinuated  that,"  put  in  the 
other,  with  the  air  of  one  who  desired  to  do  justice 
even  to  the  most  erring. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  he  's  ay  had  the  name  of 
being  one  of  the  most  respectable  men  in  the  town, 
just  an  example,  they  've  always  told  me." 

'  I  knew  him  fine  myself,  in  a  business  way,  and 
that  's  just  the  expression  I  'd  have  used  —  an 
Example." 

"  Respected  by  all." 

"  An  elder,  and  what  not." 

"  A  fine  business,  he  has." 

"  His  daughter  married  a  Ramornie  of  Petti- 
grew.  ' ' 

They  shook  their  heads  again,  if  possible  more 
gravely  than  before. 

"  He  must  be  going  off  his  head." 

"  He  must  be  gone,  I  'd  say." 
4 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Yon  speech  he  made  was  an  outrage  to  com- 
mon sense  and  decency!  " 

"  And  about  his  son's  marriage!  " 

"That's  Andrew  Walkingshaw  —  his  part- 
ner? " 

"Aye." 

"  Oh,  you  Ve  heard  the  story,  then?  I  wonder 
is  it  true?  " 

' '  I  had  it  on  the  best  authority. ' ' 

They  pursed  their  lips  solemnly. 

"  The  man  'smad!  " 

"  But  think  of  letting  him  loose  to  make  a  pub- 
lic exhibition  of  himself!  It  's  an  awfu'  end  to  a 
respected  career  —  in  fact,  it  's  positively  discour- 
aging." 

' '  You  're  right :  you  're  right.  If  as  respectable 
a  liver  as  him  ends  that  way  —  well,  well !  ' ' 

In  this  strain  and  with  such  comments  (exceed- 
ingly natural  under  the  circumstances)  did  his  fel- 
low-citizens discuss  the  remarkable  thing  that  befell 
Mr.  Walkingshaw.  And  yet  they  could  see  only 
the  outward  symptoms  or  manifestations  of  this 
thing.  Now  that  the  full  circumstances  are  made 
public,  it  will  be  generally  conceded  that  few  well- 
authenticated  occurrences  have  ever  at  first  sight 
seemed  less  probable.  This  has  actually  been  ad- 

5 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

vanced  as  an  argument  for  their  suppression;  but 
since  enough  has  already  leaked  out  to  whet  the 
public  curiosity,  and  indeed  to  lead  to  damaging 
misconceptions  in  a  city  so  unused  to  phenomena 
other  than  meteorological,  it  is  considered  wisest 
that  the  unvarnished  facts  should  be  placed  in  the 
hands  of  a  scrupulous  editor  and  allowed  to  speak 
for  themselves. 


PABT  I 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

CHAPTER  I 

AT  a  certain  windy  corner  in  the  famous  city 
of  Edinburgh,  a  number  of  brass  plates  were  affixed 
to  the  framework  of  a  door.  On  the  largest  and 
brightest  of  them  appeared  the  legend  "  Walking- 
shaw  &  Gilliflower,  "W.S.";  and  on  no  other  sheet 
of  brass  in  Scotland  were  more  respectable  names 
inscribed.  For  the  benefit  of  the  Sassenach  and 
other  foreigners,  it  may  be  explained  that  "  W.S." 
is  a  condensation  of  "  Writers  to  the  Signet  "  —  a 
species  of  beatified  solicitor  holding  a  position  so 
esteemed,  so  enviable,  and  so  intensely  reputable 
that  the  only  scandal  previously  whispered  in  con- 
nection with  a  member  of  this  class  proved  inno- 
cently explicable  upon  the  discovery  that  he  was 
affianced  to  the  lady 's  aunt.  The  building  in  which 
the  firm  had  their  office  formed  one  end  of  an 
austere  range  of  dark  stone  houses  overlooking  a 
street  paved  with  cubes  of  granite  and  confronted 
by  a  precisely  similar  line  of  houses  on  the  farther 

9 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

side.  The  whole  sloped  somewhat  steeply  down  a 
hill,  up  which  and  down  which  a  stimulating  breeze 
careered  and  eddied  during  three  hundred  days  of 
the  year.  Had  you  thrust  your  head  out  of  the 
office  windows  and  looked  down  the  street,  you 
could  have  seen,  generally  beneath  a  gray  sky  and 
through  a  haze  of  smoke,  an  inspiring  glimpse  of 
distant  sea  with  yet  more  distant  hills  beyond.  But 
Mr.  Walkingshaw  had  no  time  for  looking  gratis 
out  of  his  window  to  see  unprofitable  views.  The 
gray  street  had  been  the  background  to  nearly  fifty 
years  of  dignified  labor  on  behalf  of  the  most  re- 
spectable clients. 

His  full  name  was  James  Heriot  Walkingshaw, 
but  it  had  been  early  recognized  that  "  James  " 
was  too  brief  a  designation  and  "  Jimmie  "  too 
trivial  for  one  of  his  parts  and  presence,  and  so 
he  was  universally  known  as  Heriot  Walkingshaw. 
His  antecedents  were  as  respectable  as  his  clients. 
One  of  his  eight  great-great-grandfathers  owned 
a  landed  estate  in  the  county  of  Peebles,  one  of 
his  maternal  uncles  was  a  theological  professor  in 
the  University  of  Aberdeen,  and  his  father  before 
him  had  been  a  W.S.  Young  Heriot  himself  was 
brought  up  on  porridge,  the  tawse,  the  Shorter 
Catechism,  and  an  allowance  of  five  shillings  a 
10 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

week.  His  parents  were  both  prudent  and  pious. 
Throughout  such  portions  of  the  Sabbath  as  they 
did  not  spend  with  their  offspring  in  their  pew, 
they  kept  them  indoors  behind  drawn  blinds.  His 
mother  kissed  young  Heriot  seldom  and  severely 
(with  a  cold  smack  like  a  hailstone),  and  never  per- 
mitted him  to  remain  ten  minutes  in  the  same  room 
with  a  housemaid  unchaperoned.  His  father  never 
allowed  him  to  sleep  under  more  than  two  blankets, 
and  locked  the  front  door  at  nine  o  'clock  in  summer 
and  six  in  winter. 

The  supreme  merit  of  this  system  in  insuring 
the  survival  of  the  fittest  was  seen  in  its  results. 
Heriot 's  elder  brother  passed  away  at  the  age  of 
two  in  the  course  of  a  severe  winter.  Clearly  he 
would  never  have  been  a  credit  to  oatmeal.  His 
younger  brother  broke  loose  at  nineteen,  pained 
his  relatives  exceedingly,  and  retired  to  a  distant 
colony  where  the  standard  was  lower.  His  name 
was  never  mentioned  till  at  his  decease  it  was  found 
that  he  had  left  £30,000  to  be  divided  among  the 
survivors  of  the  ordeal.  And  finally,  here  was 
Heriot,  a  credit  to  his  parents,  his  porridge,  and  his 
Catechism  —  in  a  word,  an  Example. 

One  damp  February  morning,  Mr.  Walkingshaw, 
accompanied  as  usual  by  his  eldest  son,  set  forth 
11 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

from  his  decorous  residence.  It  was  one  of  a  circle 
of  stately  houses,  broken  in  two  or  three  places  to 
permit  the  sedatest  kind  of  street  to  enter.  The 
grave  dignity  of  these  mansions  was  accentuated 
by  the  straight,  deep-hewn  furrows  at  the  junctions 
of  the  vast  rectangular  stones,  and  by  the  pedi- 
ment and  fluted  pillars  which  every  here  and  there 
gave  one  of  them  the  appearance  of  a  Greek  temple 
dedicated  to  some  chaste  goddess.  In  the  midst,  a 
round,  railed-in  garden  was  full  of  lofty  trees,  very 
upright  and  dark,  like  monuments  to  the  distin- 
guished inhabitants. 

Just  as  Mr.  Walkingshaw  and  his  son  had  got 
down  the  steps  and  reached  the  pavement,  the  door 
opened  again  behind  them  and  a  figure  appeared 
which  seemed  to  light  the  dull  February  morning 
with  a  ray  of  something  like  sunshine.  Her  dress 
was  a  warm  golden  brown;  her  face  clear-skinned 
and  fresh-colored,  with  bright  eyes,  a  straight  little 
nose,  and,  at  that  moment,  eager,  parted  lips;  her 
hair  a  coil  of  curling  gold ;  her  age  nineteen. 

' '  Father !  ' '  she  cried,  ' '  you  've  forgotten  your 
muffler!  " 

"  Tut,  tuts,"  muttered  Mr.  Walkingshaw. 

He  stopped  and  let  her  wind  the  muffler  round 
12 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

his  neck,  while  his  son  regarded  the  performance 
with  a  curiously  captious  eye. 

"  Thanks,  Jean,"  said  Mr.  "Walkingshaw. 

He  threw  the  girl  a  brief  nod,  and  the  two  re- 
sumed their  walk.  Jean  stood  for  a  minute  on  the 
steps  with  a  smile  half  formed  upon  her  lips,  as 
though  she  were  prepared  to  wave  them  a  farewell ; 
but  neither  man  looked  back,  and  the  smile  died 
away,  the  door  closed  behind  her,  and  the  morning 
became  as  raw  as  ever. 

For  a  few  minutes  father  and  son  walked  to- 
gether in  silence.  In  Andrew's  eye  lurked  the 
same  suggestion  of  criticism,  and  in  his  parent's 
some  consciousness  of  this  and  not  a  little  conse- 
quent irritation.  They  were  the  same  height  — 
—  just  under  six  feet  —  and  there  was  a  decided 
resemblance  between  Mr.  Walkingshaw 's  portly 
gait  and  Andrew's  dignified  carriage,  but  other- 
wise they  were  not  much  alike.  The  father  had 
a  large  and  open  countenance,  very  ruddy  and 
fringed  with  the  most  respectable  white  whiskers; 
and  something  ample  in  his  voice  and  eye  and  man- 
ner accorded  with  it  admirably.  Andrew's  face 
also  was  full,  but  rather  in  places  than  compre- 
hensively. The  chief  places  were  his  cheeks  and 
13 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

upper  lip.  This  lip  was  perhaps  his  most  strik- 
ing characteristic.  It  was  both  full  and  long,  meet- 
ing his  cheeks  at  either  end  in  a  little  dimple,  and 
protruding  above  the  lower  lip.  Beneath  it  his 
chin  sloped  sharply  back  and  then  abruptly  shot 
forward  again  in  the  shape  of  a  round  aggressive 
little  ball.  His  eye  was  cold  and  gray,  his  hair 
dark,  his  age  six-and-thirty,  and  for  the  last  few 
years  he  had  been  his  father's  partner.  He  was 
the  first  to  break  the  silence. 

"  Why  you  don't  see  a  respectable  doctor,  I  can't 
imagine,"  said  he. 

"  I  went  to  Mackenzie.  I  went  to  Grant,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Walkingshaw  shortly.  "A  lot  of  good 
either  of  them  did  my  gout !  ' ' 

"  Gout!  "  said  Andrew.  "  And  have  you  ex- 
changed that  for  anything  better?  You  ought  to 
have  stayed  in  bed  to-day.  I  wonder  you  ventured 
out  in  the  state  that  man  's  got  you  into. ' ' 

The  words  might  conceivably  be  taken  to  repre- 
sent a  very  natural  filial  anxiety,  but  the  voice  was 
reminiscent  of  the  consolation  of  Job.  Mr.  Walk- 
ingshaw had  always  been  able  to  inspire  his  chil- 
dren with  a  respect  so  profound  that  it  was  a  little 
difficult  at  times  to  distinguish  it  from  awe.  Even 
Andrew  when  he  became  his  partner  had  not  lost 
14 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

the  attitude.  But  to-day  his  father  accepted  the 
rebuke  without  a  murmur.  In  a  moment  the  hard 
Scotch  voice  smote  again  — 

"  The  idea  of  a  man  in  your  position  going  to 
an  infernal  quack  like  Professor  Cyrus!  Pro- 
fessor ?  Humph !  The  man  's  killing  you. ' ' 

Mr.  Walkingshaw 's  ruddy  face  grew  redder. 
The  standard  of  common  sense  is  high  in  Scotland ; 
the  humiliation  in  being  taken  in  profound;  the 
respect  for  the  professional  orthodoxies  intense. 
And  he  had  been  the  protagonist  of  everything 
sensible,  orthodox,  and  prudent!  He  felt  like  a 
constable  caught  in  the  pantry. 

"  Cyrus  is  a  man  of  remarkable  —  ah  —  ideas. 
He  assures  me  I  shall  see  the  beneficial  effects  soon. 
Patience  —  patience;  that  is  what  he  says.  I  — 
ah  —  have  probably  only  caught  a  little  chill.  I 
believe  in  Cyrus,  Andrew,  I  believe  in  him." 

Andrew  received  the  explanation  with. outward 
respect.  His  father's  eye  had  become  formidable; 
but  in  silence  his  own  expressed  his  opinion  of  this 
paltry  defense.  Presently  he  inquired  — 

"  Would  you  like  people  to  know  who  you  're 
going  to?  " 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  started. 

' '  I  '11  trouble  other  folks  to  mind  their  own  busi- 
15 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

ness,"  he  said  sharply;  yet  he  cast  an  uncomfort- 
able glance  at  his  son. 

"  Oh,  I  'm  not  anxious  they  should  know  my 
family's  escapades,"  said  Andrew  reassuringly. 

But  his  gray  eye  had  now  a  triumphant  gleam, 
and  his  father  realized  he  had  no  case  left  to  go 
before  the  court.  If  people  were  to  know  —  well, 
he  would  certainly  be  a  less  shining  example.  Mr. 
Walkingshaw  of  Walkingshaw  and  Gilliflower  in 
the  hands  of  a  quack  doctor!  It  would  sound  aw- 
ful bad  —  awful  bad.  Little  did  he  dream  what 
people  would  be  saying  of  that  reputable  Writer  to 
the  Signet  three  months  later. 

Business  happened  to  be  slack  that  afternoon, 
and  at  the  early  hour  of  four  o'clock  Mr.  Walk- 
ingshaw resumed  his  overcoat  and  muffler.  As  Mr. 
Thomieson,  his  confidential  clerk,  decorously  tucked 
the  scarf  beneath  the  velvet  collar,  he  offered  a 
word  or  two  of  respectful  sympathy. 

"  Far  the  wisest  thing  to  go  home,  sir.  But 
will  you  not  take  a  cab?  It  's  an  awful  like  day 
to  be  out  with  a  chill  on  ye. ' ' 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  perceived  his  junior  partner 
gazing  on  him.  in  severe  silence,  and  defiantly  de- 
cided to  walk.  Yet  as  he  paced  homewards  he 
16 


could  not  but  admit,  in  the  unquiet  recesses  of  his 
own  mind,  that  it  certainly  was  an  odd  sort  of  chill. 
He  felt  —  well,  he  found  it  hard  to  tell  exactly  how 
he  felt  —  rather  as  though  he  had  swallowed  some 
ounces  of  quicksilver  which  kept  flashing  and  run- 
ning about  inside  him  with  every  step  he  took. 
Suppose  Cyrus's  wonderful  new  system  were  actu- 
ally to  prove  dangerous  to  the  constitution,  possibly 
even  to  the  life,  of  his  august,  confiding  patron? 
You  could  not  always  know  your  luck,  however 
deserving  you  might  be.  The  tower  of  Siloam  fell 
both  upon  the  righteous  and  the  unrighteous. 
What  would  people  say  if  Professor  Cyrus  meta- 
phorically fell  on  him?  Heriot  Walkingshaw  had 
more  at  stake  than  mere  existence.  He  had  a  char- 
acter to  lose. 

The  sight  of  his  house,  so  dignified  and  so  perma- 
nent, soothed  him  a  little.  As  he  hung  his  coat 
upon  the  substantial  rack  in  the  dark  and  spacious 
hall,  he  was  soothed  still  further.  Ascending  to 
his  drawing-room,  the  thick  carpet  underfoot  com- 
pleted his  tranquillity.  Surely  nothing  discon- 
certing could  happen  to  a  man  who  owned  such  a 
house  as  this.  But  alas !  regrettable  episodes  have 
a  habit,  like  migrant  birds,  of  arriving  in  com- 
panies. 

a  17 


CHAPTER  II 

MRS.  WALKINGSHAW  had  been  dead  for  many 
years,  and  in  her  stead  Heriot's  maiden  sister,  a 
thin,  elderly  lady  of  exemplary  views  and  conduct, 
ruled  her  household.  As  her  brother  ruled  her, 
he  found  the  arrangement  worked  admirably. 

"  Are  you  not  coming  out  with  me  in  the  car- 
riage ?  ' '  said  she  to  her  niece  that  afternoon. 

Jean  excused  herself.  She  had  letters  she  posi- 
tively must  write;  and  so  the  two  tall  horses 
pranced  off,  bearing  in  the  very  large  and  very 
shiny  carriage  only  the  exemplary  lady.  As  she 
heard  them  clatter  off  over  the  resounding  granite, 
Jean  gave  a  little  skip.  Her  eyes  danced  too  and 
her  lips  smiled  mysteriously.  She  ran  upstairs 
like  a  whirlwind  and  had  the  drawing-room  door 
shut  behind  her  before  she  paused.  Only  then 
did  she  seem  to  feel  safely  alone  and  not  in  the 
carriage  shopping.  The  room  was  very  long,  and 
very  wide,  and  immensely  high,  with  three  tall 
windows  down  one  side  and  substantial  furniture 
purchased  in.  the  heyday  of  the  Victorian  epoch. 
18 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

The  slim,  fair-haired  figure  was  quite  lost  in  the 
space  considered  suitable  by  an  early  nineteenth- 
century  architect  for  the  accommodation  of  a  Scot- 
tish lady;  and  the  fire  made  much  more  of  a  dis- 
play, glowing  in  the  gloom  of  that  raw  February 
afternoon. 

Jean  sat  by  a  little  writing-table  and  took  up  a 
pen.  Then  she  waited,  evidently  for  ideas  to  come. 
Ten  minutes  later  they  arrived.  The  door  was 
softly  opened,  a  voice  respectably  subdued  an- 
nounced the  name  of  "  Mr.  Vernon,"  and  the 
duties  of  the  pen  were  over. 

The  gentleman  who  entered  made  a  remarkable 
contrast  to  the  sedate  upholstery.  He  had  a  mop 
of  brown  hair  upon  a  large  and  well-shaped  head, 
a  broad  face  with  rugged,  striking  features,  very 
bright  blue  eyes,  a  dashing  cavalier  mustache,  and 
a  most  engaging  smile.  His  clothes  were  light  of 
hue  and  very  loose,  his  figure  was  of  medium  height 
and  strongly  built,  his  collar  wide  open  at  the  neck, 
and  his  tie  a  large  silk  butterfly  of  an  artistic  shade 
of  brown.  Altogether  he  was  a  most  improbable 
person  to  find  calling  upon  a  daughter  of  Mr. 
Heriot  Walkingshaw. 

He  gave  Jean's  hand  the  grasp  of  a  friend,  but 
his  eyes  looked  on  her  with  a  more  than  friendly 
19 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

light  in  them.  When  he  spoke,  his  voice  was  as 
pleasant  as  his  smile,  and  his  accents  were  those 
of  that  portion  of  Britain  not  yet  entirely  occupied 
by  the  victors  of  Bannockburn. 

' '  It  's  very  good  of  you  to  stay  in, ' '  he  said. 

' '  Oh,  I  was  n  't  going  out  in  any  case, ' '  said  Jean 
demurely. 

She  seated  herself  in  one  corner  of  the  sofa,  and 
the  young  man,  after  hesitating  for  an  instant  be- 
tween a  seat  by  her  side  and  a  chair  close  by,  and 
failing  to  catch  her  eye  to  guide  him,  chose  the 
chair,  and  for  the  moment  looked  unhappy. 

' '  I  Ve  come  to  say  good-by , ' '  he  began. 

She  looked  up  quickly. 

' '  Are  you  going  away  ?  ' ' 

He  nodded  his  brown  mop. 

"  Yes,  I  'm  off  to  London  again." 

"  For  good?  " 

' '  I  hope  so ;  anyhow,  it  can 't  be  for  much  worse 
than  I  Ve  done  here." 

' '  Have  n 't  your  pictures  been  —  been  appreci- 
ated here  ?  ' '  she  asked. 

"  They  haven't  been  sold,"  he  said,  with  a  short 
laugh. 

' '  What  a  shame !     Oh,  Mr.  Vernon,  I  do  think 
people  might  have  had  better  taste. ' ' 
20 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  So  do  I,"  he  smiled,  "  but  they  haven't  had. 
I  've  made  nothing  here  but  friends. ' ' 

He  had  a  musical  voice,  rather  deep,  and  very 
readily  expressive  of  what  he  strongly  felt.  His 
last  sentence  rang  in  Jean's  ears  like  a  declaration 
of  love.  Her  eyes  fell  and  her  color  rose. 

' '  "We  have  all  been  very  glad  to  see  you  ' ' 

He  shook  his  head;  his  eyes  fastened  on  her  all 
the  time. 

"  No,  you  haven't." 

She  looked  up,  but  meeting  that  devouring  gaze, 
looked  down  again. 

"  Not  all  of  you,"  he  added.  "  Your  father 
disapproves  of  me,  your  eldest  brother  detests  me, 
and  your  aunt  distrusts  me.  It  's  only  you  and 
Frank  who  have  been  my  friends. ' ' 

Frank  was  her  soldier  brother,  and  Jean  adored 
him.  She  thought  she  could  never  care  for  any 
one  but  a  soldier,  till  she  encountered  art  and  Lucas 
Vernon. 

"  Yes,  Frank  certainly  does  like  you  very  much 
indeed,"  she  said  warmly. 

"  Don't  you?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  firmly. 

He  smiled  and  bent  towards  her. 

"  Your  hand  on  it!  " 

21 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

She  held  out  her  hand,  and  he  took  it  and  kept  it. 

(At  that  moment  Mr.  Walkingshaw  was  opening 
his  front  door.) 

For  a  minute  they  sat  in  silence,  and  then  she 
tried  gently  to  draw  the  hand  away. 

"Let  me  keep  it  for  a  little!"  he  pleaded. 
"  I  'm  going  away.  I  shan't  hold  it  again  for 
Heaven  knows  how  long. ' ' 

His  voice  was  so  caressing  that  she  ceased  to 
grudge  him  five  small  fingers. 

(Mr.  Walkingshaw  had  removed  his  muffler  and 
was  hanging  up  his  coat.) 

"  Are  you  at  all  sorry  I  'm  going?  " 

"  Yes,"  murmured  Jean,  "  Frank  and  I  —  we  '11 
both  miss  you. ' ' 

The  artist  murmured  too,  but  very  indistinctly. 
The  idea  he  expressed  thus  inadequately  was, 
' '  Hang  Frank !  ' '  But  she  heard  the  next  word 
too  plainly  for  her  self-possession. 

"  Jean!  " 

(Mr.  Walkingshaw  was  now  ascending  his  well- 
carpeted  staircase.) 

She  gave  him  one  glance  which  she  meant  for 
reproof;  but  when  he  saw  her  eyes,  so  loving  and 
a  little  moist,  he  covered  the  short  space  between 
22 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

them  with  one  movement,  and  was  on  his  knees 
before  her. 

"  Do  you  love  me?  "  he  whispered. 

Her  head  bent  over  his,  and  she  answered  very 
faintly  something  like  "  Yes." 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  entered  his  drawing-room. 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  painful  pause. 
Jean's  face  had  turned  a  becoming  shade  of  crim- 
son, and  the  artist  was  on  his  feet.  Naturally  the 
woman  spoke  first. 

"I  —  I  did  n't  expect  you  back  so  soon,  father." 

"  So  I  perceive,"  said  Mr.  Walkingshaw. 

The  young  man  turned  to  him  with  creditable 
composure. 

"  One  can  hardly  judge  of  the  effect  in  this 
light,"  said  he. 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  had  heard  of  people  becoming 
insane  under  the  stress  of  a  sudden  shock,  and  he 
wondered  uneasily  whether  this  misfortune  had 
befallen  Lucas  Vernon  or  himself.  The  artist  per- 
ceived his  success,  and  hope  began  to  rise  afresh. 
He  cocked  his  head  professionally  on  one  side  and 
examined  the  confounded  girl. 

"  We  must  try  the  pose  in  my  studio." 

Jean  also  saw  the  dawn  of  hope. 
23 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  May  I  inquire  what  you  are  talking  about?  " 
demanded  her  father. 

'*  Miss  Walkingshaw  has  promised  to  sit  to  me 
for  her  portrait, ' '  explained  the  artist.  ' '  We  were 
trying  one  or  two  positions. ' ' 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  breathed  somewhat  heavily, 
but  said  nothing.  Jean's  color  began  to  subside. 

"  Mr.  Vernon  was  arranging  my  hands,"  she 
contributed  towards  his  enlightenment. 

Mr.  Vernon  was  now  gazing  on  her  in  the  atti- 
tude which  he  had  learnt  from  plays  and  poems 
conveyed  to  the  laity  the  best  conception  of  artistic 
fervor. 

"  The  head  a  little  more  to  the  right!  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  The  hands  crossed!  A  smile,  please! 
Now,  sir,  how  do  you  like  that  ?  ' ' 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  ignored  the  question  alto- 
gether and  addressed  his  daughter. 

"  If  Mr.  Vernon  can  give  any  reasons  why  he 
should  paint  your  portrait,  I  think  he  had  better 
give  them  to  me  before  the  matter  goes  further. ' ' 

His  formidable  eye  supplied  the  addendum, 
' '  And  you  leave  the  room !  ' ' 

She  obeyed,  and  the  painter  was  left  with  this 
singularly  favorable  opportunity  of  obtaining  a 
commission  at  last. 

24 


CHAPTER  III 

"  WELL,  sir?  "  said  Mr.  Walkingshaw. 

Lucas  was  unused  to  the  subtleties  of  diplomacy, 
but  it  seemed  to  him  an  evident  case  for  tact. 

"  What  do  you  think  about  it  yourself?  "  he  be- 
gan cautiously. 

"  I  think,"  replied  the  W.S.,  "  that  you  'd  be 
better  back  in  England." 

His  eye  again  spoke  for  him,  and  this  time  it 
said,  "  There  is  no  further  use  in  attempting  to 
deceive  me." 

The  artist  took  the  hint.  His  strong,  pleasant 
face  became  a  mirror  reflecting  the  very  truth; 
his  blue  eyes  were  filled  with  a  light  brighter  even 
than  the  inspiration  of  art ;  his  mellow  voice  burst 
out  abruptly  — 

"I  love  Jean!" 

The  effect  was  rather  like  discharging  a  cannon 
and  bringing  down  a  scrap  of  plaster. 

"  Oh,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Walkingshaw.  "  You 
mean  my  daughter?  " 

"  I  should  think  I  do !  " 
25 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  I  merely  asked  for  information,  Mr.  Vernon." 

' '  Then  I  can  guarantee  your  information !  ' ' 
Lucas  smiled  frankly,  but  he  might  as  well  have 
smiled  at  the  hat-rack  in  the  hall.  "  I  'in  quite 
aware  you  don't  think  me  good  enough  for  her  — 
and  I  agree  with  you.  But  if  it  comes  to  that, 
who  is?  You  may  say  my  name  's  neither  Turner 
nor  Rubens;  you  may  think  it  's  like  my  dashed 
impudence  asking  you  to  let  me  make  a  short  cut 
to  heaven  across  your  hearth  — 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Mr.  Walkingshaw  dis- 
charged his  ordnance. 

"  What  is  your  income?  "  he  inquired  coldly. 

His   aim    was   more    accurate.     The    artist    de- 
scended to  earth  with  a  thud. 

"  My  income  f  "  he  gasped. 

"  Your  income,"  repeated  the  bombardier. 

The  artist  ran  his  fingers  convulsively  through 
his  hair. 

"  Now,  what  the  deuce  should  I  put  it  at?  " 

"  An  approximately  correct  figure,"  suggested 
Mr.  Walkingshaw. 

' '  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  have  n  't  the  least  idea. ' ' 

"  A  thousand?  " 

"  Oh,  good  God,  no!  " 

"A  hundred?" 

26 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Oh,  more  than  that," 

"  Can't  you  suggest  a  figure  yourself?  " 

"  "Well,  let  's  say  that  in  a  good  year  I  make 
anything  up  to  three  or  four  hundred  pounds,  and 
in  a  bad  year  anything  down  to  fifty  or  sixty." 

"  We  '11  say  that  if  you  like.  Do  you  expect 
any  legacies  to  fall  in  to  you  —  anything  of  that 
kind?  " 

"  Unfortunately  I  don't." 

Mr.  "Walkingshaw  regarded  him  with  contemptu- 
ous severity. 

"  Then  you  propose  to  marry  my  daughter  on 
maybe  fifty  or  sixty  pounds  a  year?  " 

"  I  told  you  that  was  in  a  bad  year,"  protested 
the  artist. 

"  Thank  you,  but  I  don't  want  any  of  your 
fluctuating  incomes  for  my  girls.  I  don't  care  if 
you  earned  ten  thousand  pounds  this  year.  So 
long  as  you  can 't  guarantee  that  to  last,  you  're  no 
better  than  a  speculator  —  a  hand-to-mouth,  don 't- 
know-where-you-are-to-morrow  sort  of  person. 
Now,  that  sort  of  thing  won't  do,  Mr.  Vernon.  Be- 
fore you  next  think  of  marrying  a  girl  in  my  daugh- 
ter's position,  let  me  give  you  this  bit  of  advice: 
learn  to  paint  your  pictures  on  some  kind  of  proper 
business  principles.  If  you  do  them,  say,  once  a 
27 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

month  and  sell  them  at  a  standard  price  —  just  as 
other  folks  have  to  manufacture  and  sell  their 
goods  —  you  '11  not  find  yourself  in  the  same  ridicu- 
lous position  you  're  in  at  this  moment." 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  rose  to  indicate  that  the  inter- 
view was  at  an  end;  but  the  artist's  endurance 
ended  first. 

"  Mr.  Walkingshaw!  Did  you  ever  make  any- 
thing in  your  life?  " 

The  W.S.  stared  at  him. 

"  I  have  made  most  of  what  I  possess,  sir." 

' '  Pooh !  You  're  talking  of  money.  Does  your 
mind  never  run  on  anything  but  money?  I  mean, 
have  you  ever  made  a  hat  or  a  shoe,  or  a  book  or  a 
picture,  or  even  a  cheese?  Have  you  ever  actu- 
ally turned  out  anything  that  was  the  least  use  or 
pleasure  to  anybody?  " 

Vernon's  blue  eyes  were  bent  upon  him  in  such 
an  extraordinarily  intense  and  flashing  manner 
that  Mr.  Walkingshaw  found  himself  compelled  to 
answer. 

"  That  kind  of  thing  is  —  ah  —  not  in  my  line." 

"  Then,"  burst  forth  the  artist,  "  you  can  no 

more  judge  of  my  work  than  a  toasting-fork  can 

judge  of  a  steam  engine.     The  woman  who  cooks 

your  dinner  understands  more  than  you  do.    She 

28 


knows  better  than  to  think  it  costs  no  more  time 
and  trouble  to  cook  an  omelette  than  boil  an  egg. 
A  picture  a  month,  and  the  same  price  for  each ! 
Confound  it,  Mr.  Walkingshaw,  you  make  me 
ashamed  of  you!  " 

"  Do  you  imagine,  sir,  that  that  affects  me?  " 

"  If  I  were  you,  I  'd  prefer  my  son-in-law  to  re- 
spect me. ' ' 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  positively  jumped. 

"  You  mean  to  —  er  — " 

"  Marry  her,  whether  you  like  it  or  not!  I  'm 
in  love  —  and  she  loves  me !  There  ?s  not  the  least 
use  trying  to  explain  to  you  what  love  means.  It 
would  be  like  trying  to  explain  a  cigar  to  a  chicken. 
You  're  too  respectable.  You  can't  understand." 

The  tirade  ceased  abruptly,  and  the  young  man 
smiled  again  upon  the  petrified  Writer  to  the 
Signet. 

"  I  am  going  back  to  London  to-night.  Just 
give  me  a  year  or  two,  Mr.  Walkingshaw.  I  '11 
make  an  income  for  her." 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  regained  his  senses. 

"  You  will  never  be  admitted  inside  this  house 
in  your  life  again,  sir.  You  will  never  marry  my 
daughter ;  and  mind  you,  you  need  n  't  flatter  your- 
self she  will  correspond  with  you  or  anything  of 
29 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

that  kind.  My  children  have  been  decently 
brought  up.  What  I  say  is  done;  and  what  I  say 
shan  't  be  done,  is  not  done !  ' ' 

He  had  recovered  his  formidableness  now,  and 
the  artist's  face  fell.  For  a  moment  he  looked 
gloomily  at  his  father-in-law  elect,  and  then  he 
turned  for  the  door. 

"  We  shall  see,"  he  said. 

"  You  shall  not  see  her  again,"  retorted  Mr. 
Walkingshaw. 

The  door  slammed  behind  art  and  love  and  im- 
practicability, and  he  stood  in  his  vast  drawing- 
room  alone. 


30 


CHAPTER  IV 

IT  is  a  pleasant  and  an  edifying  thing  to  con- 
trast the  difference  between  the  fates  of  the 
reputable  and  the  Bohemian  even  in  the  lists  of 
love.  Clearly  these  matters  are  managed  by  some 
scrupulously  equitable  power.  One  hesitates  to 
dub  it  Providence  for  fear  of  seeming  sentimental, 
but  one  may  safely  describe  it  as  something  almost 
as  wise  and  decidedly  more  respectable.  Here  was 
Lucas  Vernon,  without  a  settled  income  or  any  very 
coherent  notion  of  how  to  make  one,  dismissed  the 
house  of  the  girl  he  was  foolish  enough  to  love. 
There,  on  the  other  hand,  was  Andrew  "VValking- 
shaw,  who  had  first  devoted  himself  to  amassing  and 
investing  a  handsome  competence,  and  then,  with- 
out any  further  difficulty  to  speak  of,  had  selected 
and  secured  one  of  the  most  charming  girls  imagin- 
able. In  every  respect  but  one  he  had  chosen  ob- 
viously well.  She  was  fair  to  see,  and  hence  very 
gratifying  to  be  seen  with ;  she  was  quite  young,  and 
therefore  amenable  and  not  too  sophisticated;  and 
she  came  of  so  excellent  and  ancient  a  family  that 
31 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

it  was  a  pleasure  merely  to  mention  the  name  of  his 
prospective  father-in-law  to  his  envious  acquaint- 
ances. Archibald  Berstoun,  Esq.,  of  that  ilk,  was 
the  style  in  which  that  gentleman  preferred  to  have 
correspondence  addressed  to  him,  accepting  Bers- 
toun of  Berstoun  as  a  less  satisfactory  alternative, 
and  answering  very  briefly  letters  to  plain  Archi- 
bald Berstoun,  Esq. 

The  only  drawback  to  Ellen  Berstoun  was  her 
father's  unfortunate  financial  position.  Andrew 
had  to  take  her  without  a  penny ;  but  then,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  might  not  have  got  her  at  all  had 
her  parents  the  wherewithal  to  display  her  charms 
in  London  ballrooms.  Also,  Archibald  of  that  ilk 
might  have  looked  for  a  showier  mate  for  her  under 
more  prosperous  circumstances.  As  it  was,  her 
parents  spent  a  strenuous  fortnight  in  persuading 
her  to  accept  so  excellent  an  opportunity  of  reduc- 
ing their  supply  of  marriageable  daughters  to  the 
more  reasonable  number  of  five,  and  the  approval  of 
their  creditors  was  practically  unanimous. 

They  had  been  engaged  for  a  month,  when,  upon 
that  same  afternoon,  she  arrived  on  a  short  visit  to 
the  "Walkingshaw  's  house.  Andrew  would  have 
met  her  at  the  station  had  her  train  arrived  only 
twenty  minutes  later,  but  it  was  one  of  the  most 
32 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

admirable  features  in  his  character  that  he  made  a 
point  of  never  on  any  pretext  leaving  the  office  be- 
fore the  hour  had  struck.  Frank,  however,  showed 
remarkable  alacrity  in  offering  himself  as  substi- 
tute. So  zealous  and  obliging  a  brother  was  he 
that  he  started  for  the  station  with  half  an  hour  to 
spare,  and  whiled  away  a  portion  of  that  time  in 
purchasing  a  bouquet  of  flowers  and  a  very  orna- 
mental box  of  chocolates. 

Holding  the  chocolate-box  and  his  umbrella  un- 
der one  arm  and  the  bouquet  in  his  other  hand, 
this  best  of  brothers  paced  that  eligible  promenade, 
the  platform  of  the  Haymarket  station.  People, 
especially  women,  glanced  at  him  with  approval  as 
the  erect,  military  young  figure  passed  and  repassed. 
on  his  vigil,  marching  as  though  on  parade.  He 
was  twenty-five,  bronzed  of  skin,  well-featured, 
trimly  mustached,  modest  and  yet  gallant  of  mien, 
attired  in  an  overcoat  drawn  in  at  the  waist  and  a 
hat  becomingly  cocked  a  little  towards  his  left  ear 

—  in  a  word,  a  credit  to  that  distinguished  corps, 
the  Cromarty  Highlanders.  At  present  they  were 
in  India,  and  he  was  home  on  furlough. 

Sometimes  his  clear  young  eyes  looked  discon- 
solately into  space,  as  though  the  saddest  thoughts 

afflicted  him ;  and  then  they  would  brighten  with  a 
a  33 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

sudden  excitement.  As  these  brightenings  almost 
invariably  coincided  with  the  first  rumbling  of  a 
train  far  down  the  line  that  glimmered  beneath  red 
lamps  and  green,  leading  from  the  north  out  of  the 
gathered  dusk,  it  seemed  as  though  the  cheering 
prospect  came  from  thence.  This  probability 
would  appea  to  be  increased  by  the  disappear- 
ance of  the  excitement  when  the  train  proved  to 
come  from  some  locality  of  no  interest  whatsoever. 
An  observant  female  in  glasses  and  a  golf  cape, 
who  entertained  herself  by  furtively  studying  this 
agreeable-looking  stranger,  smiled  knowingly  at 
each  of  these  manifestations:  she  knew  whom  he 
was  waiting  for,  even  without  the  palpable  evidence 
of  the  bouquet  and  chocolate-box,  and  the  only 
thing  that  puzzled  her  was  why  he  should  have  these 
very  mournful  lapses.  A  secret  grief  seemed  inap- 
propriate both  to  the  gentleman  and  the  obvious 
situation.  But  how  could  she  guess  that  she  was 
merely  witnessing  an  accentuated  variety  of  the 
pleasure  with  which  any  good  brother  looks  for- 
ward to  meeting  his  future  sister-in-law  at  the  end 
of  a  cold  journey? 

"  Yon  's  her  noo,"  said  a  porter  to  whom  the 
young  officer  addressed  a  question  for  the  four- 
teenth time. 

34 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

The  north  line  runs  for  a  long  way  very  straight 
just  there,  and  Frank  could  see  the  two  round 
glows  far  off  in  the  darkness  grow  larger  and 
larger,  brighter  and  brighter,  with  the  furnace-lit 
smoke  streaming  ever  more  brilliantly  above,  till 
the  shape  of  a  great  engine  started  out,  thunder- 
ing close  upon  him.  And  then  the  observant  fe- 
male was  gratified  by  a  glimpse  of  a  slender  girl, 
rather  tall,  smiling  very  kindly  as  the  interesting 
unknown  handed  her  down  from  her  carriage  and 
placed  the  flowers  in  her  small  gray  glove.  Her 
hair  was  dark;  she  wore  handsome  furs;  she  left 
the  entire  charge  of  her  luggage  to  her  escort,  like 
a  lady  accustomed  to  be  waited  on ;  she  moved  down 
the  platform  with  a  graceful  air  of  distinction,  and 
as  she  passed  close  by,  the  observant  female's  heart 
was  won  by  the  sweet  and  innocent  expression  on 
her  face.  She  thought  them  one  of  the  nicest-look- 
ing couples  she  had  ever  seen. 

Meanwhile,  the  man  whose  virtues  had  earned 
this  charming  girl,  and  whose  high  position  could 
command  the  services  of  a  Highland  subaltern  to 
do  his  station  work  for  him,  was  dictating  a  letter 
to  his  typewriter. 

But  when  Andrew  sat  down  to  dinner  beside  the 
lady  of  his  choice,  and  felt  that  at  last  he  could 
35 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

conscientiously  lay  aside  the  serious  business  of  life 
for  a  little  dalliance  with  the  fruits  of  his  indus- 
try, it  was  pleasant  to  see  with  what  happy  min- 
gling of  pride  and  calm  he  accepted  his  good  for- 
tune. He  conveyed  that  suggestion  of  having  put 
the  lady  in  his  pocket  from  the  moment  she  whis- 
pered "  Yes,"  and  kept  her  there  among  his  keys 
as  a  valued,  yet  not  foolishly  over-valued,  posses- 
sion, which  is  so  virile  a  characteristic  of  the  thor- 
oughly successful  man.  Now  he  was  taking  her 
out  to  have  a  look  at  her,  and  incidentally  —  as  it 
were,  unconsciously  —  exhibit  his  trophy  to  the 
company.  As  for  Ellen  Berstoun,  she  looked  so 
kind,  so  delicately  radiant,  so  gently  bred,  and  so 
anxious  to  give  pleasure,  that  she  made  just  the  con- 
trast to  her  dominating  betrothed  that  sensible  peo- 
ple believe  in.  Here,  they  would  tell  you,  was  a 
match  made  in  a  more  practicable  place  than 
heaven. 

The  rest  of  the  company  at  dinner  consisted  of 
Mr.  Walkingshaw,  evidently  proud  of  his  future 
daughter-in-law,  yet  singularly  silent  and  ab- 
stracted ;  Miss  Walkingshaw,  very  erect  at  the  end 
of  the  table;  Jean,  very  downcast,  poor  girl  (yet 
did  she  not  deserve  to.  be?)  ;  Fra»k,  looking  for 
some  reason  considerably  less  happy  than  when  he 

36 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

handed  Miss  Berstoun  out  of  her  carriage;  and 
Mrs.  Duubar.  Madge  Dunbar  was  a  second 
cousin,  and  the  widow  of  Captain  Dunbar  of  Ham- 
mersmith's Horse,  who  was  killed  at  Paardeberg. 
She  was  left  with  no  children,  a  very  small  income, 
and  a  number  of  relatives  occupying  excellent  sta- 
tions in  life.  "With  one  or  other  of  these  she  gen- 
erally stayed,  but  latterly  had  shown  a  decided 
preference  for  the  hospitality  of  Mr.  Walkingshaw. 
In  fact,  she  had  already  been  with  them  for  three 
months,  and  as  Mr.  Walkingshaw  was  always  very 
emphatic  in  his  refusals  to  let  her  think  of  leaving, 
and  remarkably  gracious  on  every  occasion  on 
which  they  were  seen  in  company,  while  his  sister 
declared  her  to  be  one  of  the  best  women  she  knew, 
acquaintances  had  begun  to  exchange  whispers. 
She  was  forty-five,  full-figured,  though  not  yet  pre- 
cisely stout,  dark-eyed,  and  irreproachably  dressed. 
She  was  also  irreproachably  diplomatic. 

Champagne  was  drunk  in  honor  of  Miss  Bers- 
toun, and  as  being  the  beverage  most  suitable  to 
her  pedigree  (though,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  she  had 
only  tasted  it  twice  before,  since  Archibald  of  that 
ilk  confined  himself  to  whisky,  and  his  wife  to 
dandelion  porter).  As  the  butler  passed  behind 
Mr.  Walkingshaw 's  chair,  his  master  arrested  him 
37 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

by  pointing  to  his  glass.     The  vigilant  Andrew  bent 
forward  in  his  seat. 

"  Are  you  giving  the  system  up?  "  he  inquired, 
with  his  cross-examining  smile. 

"  I  feel  that  a  glass  of  wine  would  do  me  good 
to-night,"  his  father  replied  with  dignity. 

"  Oh,  I  'm  so  glad  to  see  you  enjoying  yourself 
again,  Heriot!  "  smiled  Mrs.  Dunbar. 

"  Thank  you.  Thank  you,  Madge,"  said  he, 
and  made  a  little  courteously  old-fashioned  indica- 
tion that  he  drank  to  her  health. 

The  lady  in  a  sprightly  fashion  returned  his 
toast,  and  the  junior  partner  frowned.  He  disap- 
proved of  Mrs.  Dunbar,  he  strongly  suspected  her 
of  ulterior  designs,  and  he  regarded  the  adoption 
of  Christian  names  by  second  cousins  as  superflu- 
ous, and  in  the  circumstances  a  little  indecorous. 
His  long  upper  lip  grew  longer  as  he  addressed  his 
relative. 

' '  I  was  under  the  impression  it  was  you  who  en- 
couraged him  to  go  in  for  this  so-called  system. ' ' 

"  Oh,  but  it  's  possible  to  overdo  everything,  you 
know,"  said  the  lady,  with  a  smile  whose  sweetness 
he  inwardly  decided  to  be  compounded  of  some 
base  imitation  of  sugar.  "  Don't  you  agree  with 
me,  Heriot?  " 

38 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Absolutely,"  pronounced  her  host,  with  em- 
phasis. 

So  passionate  a  lover  naturally  regretted  parting 
even  for  a  moment  from  his  betrothed,  yet  under 
the  circumstances  Andrew  felt  decidedly  relieved 
when  the  ladies  left  the  room,  and  the  three  Walk- 
ingshaw  men  drew  together  at  the  end  of  the  table. 
His  father  passed  the  port  to  his  sons  and  then 
helped  himself.  Andrew  frowned  again:  he  be- 
lieved in  never  neglecting  an  opportunity  for  salu- 
tary criticism. 

"  Oh,  you  're  going  to  take  port  too?  " 

"  I  am,"  said  Mr.  Walkingshaw,  and  drinking 
his  glass  straight  off,  filled  it  afresh. 

Andrew  drew  down  the  corners  of  his  lips,  raised 
his  eyebrows,  and  glanced  across  at  his  brother; 
but  Frank  was  staring  abstractedly  at  the  table- 
cloth. 

The  second  glass  seemed  to  revive  their  father. 
He  smacked  his  lips  over  it  with  something  of  his 
old  gusto,  threw  out  his  chest,  frowned  formidably, 
yet  with  a  certain  complacency,  and  said  — 

"  I  've  had  to  perform  an  unpleasant  duty  this 
afternoon,  Andrew." 

Andrew  pricked  up  his  ears  and  looked  sternly 
expectant.  Yet  on  neither  of  them  did  the  idea  of 
39 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

an  unpleasant  duty  seem  to  have  a  saddening  effect. 

"  That  fellow  Vernon  has  been  making  love  to 
Jean.  I  ordered  him  out  of  the  house.  He  's  off 
to  London  again,  I  'm  thankful  to  say." 

"  Upon  my  word!  "  said  Andrew. 

He  looked  as  though  he  had  been  told  of  the 
attempted  assassination  of  the  President  of  the 
Court  of  Session.  But  on  Frank  the  news  pro- 
duced quite  a  different  effect.  He  started  out  of 
his  reverie  and  exclaimed  — 

"  You  ordered  him  out?     Poor  'Jean!  " 

The  two  older  and  wiser  men  turned  upon  him 
together. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  his  father, "  I  did  order  him  out. 
It  would  have  been  '  poor  Jean  '  if  I  had  n  't. " 

"  I  'd  have  kicked  him  downstairs!  "  said  An- 
drew. 

"  You  'd  have  had  a  devilish  thin  time  if  you  'd 
tried,"  retorted  his  brother.  "  Vernon  could  take 
you  across  his  knee.  He  's  a  good  fellow  —  a 
deuced  good  fellow ;  he  'd  have  made  Jean  a  deuced 
good  husband.  Kick  him  downstairs?  By  Gad, 
you  'd  have  squealed  when  the  kicking  began !  ' ' 

He  addressed  himself  entirely  to  his  brother, 
though  he  had  done  no  more  than  approve  of  the 
exiling  of  Lucas,  and  he  spoke  with  a  curious  bit- 
40 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

terness.  Mr.  Walkingshaw  struck  the  table  with 
his  fist,  net  passionately,  in  any  disorder  of  mind, 
but  sternly  and  effectively. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,"  he  said,  and  kept  his  eyes 
on  him  to  see  that  he  held  it. 

Frank  rose. 

' '  I  beg  your  pardon, ' '  he  said  to  his  father,  and, 
not  looking  again  at  his  brother,  walked  out  of  the 
room. 

The  two  wiser  heads,  being  then  left  undisturbed 
by  the  follies  of  youth,  discussed  at  length  and  in 
complete  accord  the  outrageous  episode  of  the  after- 
noon. 


r41 


CHAPTER  V 

FRANK  strode  hurriedly  across  the  hall,  flung 
into  the  library,  and  there  relieved  his  feelings  by 
a  few  crisp  expletives.  Gloom  succeeded  anger, 
but  after  a  few  minutes  youth  began  to  prevail 
even  over  these  high  emotions.  He  turned  up  the 
light,  adjusted  his  tie  and  smoothed  his  hair  before 
the  mirror  over  the  mantelpiece,  and  ran  upstairs 
to  the  drawing-room.  Outside  the  door  he  paused, 
looking  now  like  the  expectant  watcher  on  the  plat- 
form. Faintly  he  heard  Ellen  Berstoun's  voice, 
and  the  same  look  came  into  his  eyes  as  when  he 
caught  the  distant  roaring  of  the  train.  He 
straightened  his  neck,  banished  all  expression  from 
his  face  as  a  soldier  should,  and  entered  the  room. 

It  is  generally  conceded  by  such  as  have  enjoyed 
the  privilege  of  sitting  in  a  drawing-room  waiting 
for  the  gentlemen  to  lay  down  their  cigars  that  no 
period  of  the  day  is  more  immune  from  the  bustle 
and  turmoil  of  modern  life.  But  the  peace  of  an 
ordinary  drawing-room  was  a  bank  holiday  com- 
pared with  the  Walkingshaws'.  Not  too  much  gas 
42 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

was  burned,  or  too  much  coal,  since  money  is  not 
made  and  well-born  wives  secured  by  waste  of  fuel. 
That  leads  to  mere  cheerfulness.  The  monastic  at- 
mosphere was  completed  by  the  Victorian  uphol- 
stery and  the  hushed  voices  of  the  four  ladies,  so 
that  even  the  young  aoldier  instinctively  trod  more 
like  a  burglar  than  a  Cromarty  Highlander  as  he 
advanced  towards  one  of  the  groups  of  two. 

Near  the  fireplace  sat  Miss  Walkingshaw  and 
Mrs.  Dunbar  engaged  on  fancy-work,  and  occasion- 
ally murmuring  references  to  "  my  last  cook  " — 
"  that  tall  girl  Jane."  But  it  was  not  they  that 
Frank  approached.  On  two  chairs  very  close  to- 
gether and  far  removed  from  the  others,  Jean  and 
Ellen  talked.  Their  voices,  too,  were  hushed,  but 
the  subject  of  their  conversation  was  evidently 
more  agitating  than  cooks.  In  fact,  there  was  some- 
thing very  like  a  sob  more  than  once  in  Jean's 
voice,  and  Ellen  held  her  hand  and  gently  pressed 
it.  But  when  poor  Jean  saw  her  favorite  brother 
coming  towards  her  with  a  warm  sympathy  in  his 
eyes  that  told  her  he  knew  her  trouble,  she  could 
control  herself  no  longer.  Up  she  jumped,  ajid 
throwing  him  one  wry,  tearful  smile  as  she  passed, 
ran  out  of  the  room. 

The  two  elder  ladies  looked  up  and  then  down 
43 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

again  at  their  work.  They  had  not  yet  heard  of 
the  painful  episode.  Frank  came  forward  and 
took  his  sister's  chair,  which  had  been  drawn  so 
very  close  to  Ellen's.  He  was  thus  able,  by  exer- 
cising caution,  to  take  up  the  confidential  conversa- 
tion. 

"  I  suppose  she  has  told  you?  "  he  muttered, 
with  a  wary  glance  towards  his  aunt. 

"  Yes,"  murmured  Ellen.     "  I  'm  so  sorry!  " 

She  looked  nearly  as  distressed  as  Jean,  and  her 
gentle  voice  made  her  words  sound  like  a  sweet 
lament  for  all  unhappy  loves. 

"  I  call  it  the  deuce  of  a  shame!  "  said  the  sol- 
dier. 

"  Can't  we  do  anything  to  persuade  your 
father?  " 

He  was  conscious  of  a  little  glow  at  being 
adopted  so  instinctively  as  an  ally. 

"  I  've  told  him  what  I  think  about  it." 

' '  Have  you  ?  ' ' —  there  was  a  sparkle  in  her 
eyes. — "  How  good  of  you!  What  did  he 
say?  " 

"  Told  me  to  hold  my  tongue." 

Her  face  fell. 

"  I  must  talk  to  Andrew  about  it." 

Frank  smiled  sardonically. 
44 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  won't  find  him  very  sympa- 
thetic either." 

She  looked  down  at  her  little  pointed  shoe  and 
said  nothing. 

"  Who  isn't  very  sympathetic,  Frank?  "  asked 
Miss  Walkingshaw,  suddenly  looking  up. 

He  started  guiltily. 

"  Oh  —  er  —  a  lot  of  fellows  one  can  think  of," 
he  explained. 

Mrs.  Dunbar  looked  at  the  two  young  people 
curiously.  She  knew  whom  she  herself  did  not 
consider  sympathetic,  and  jumped  to  a  conclusion. 
There  was  nothing  the  junior  partner  would  dis- 
like more  than  being  critically  discussed  by  that 
dear  girl  who  was  so  much  too  nice  for  him,  and 
that  engaging  boy  who  was  so  infinitely  better- 
looking.  It  seemed  a  pity  they  could  not  enjoy 
their  conversation  without  interruption. 

"  Would  you  like  me  to  play  you  something, 
dear?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh  yes,  dear,"  said  Miss  Walkingshaw. 
"  Do,  please!  " 

They  were  the  most  affectionate  of  friends.    In- 
deed, it  was  touching  to  see  how  devoted  Madge 
was  to  Heriot's  wintry  sister.)    Nobody  else  had 
ever  seen  so  much  in  her  to  love. 
45 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

The  music  began,  and,  once  started,  showed  no 
sign  of  stopping.  Over  the  top  of  her  music  Mrs. 
Dunbar's  black  eyes  smiled  a  discreet  approval 
of  the  confidential  pair.  She  only  wished  that 
Andrew,  gagged  and  bound  beneath  his  brother's 
chair,  was  here  to  listen  to  them.  She  was  sure 
they  must  be  discussing  something  it  would  do  him 
good  to  hear. 

"  Is  Mr.  Vernon  a  very  nice  man?  "  asked  Ellen. 

"  One  of  the  best.  These  artist  fellows  are  apt 
to  be  a  bit  swollen-headed  for  my  taste,  but  Lucas 
Vernon  's  a  sportsman." 

She  appreciated  the  distinction  succinctly  indi- 
cated. 

"  He  does  sound  nice,"  she  said.  "  Oh,  I  wish 
everybody  had  enough  money !  ' ' 

Frank  drew  another  distinction. 

"  Everybody  who  deserved  it,  anyhow." 

"  Well,"  said  Ellen  softly,  "  if  I  had  the  ar- 
rangement of  things,  I  would  risk  it  and  give 
everybody  enough.  It  makes  me  so  unhappy  to  see 
people  longing  for  things  they  can  never  possibly 
get  —  whether  they  deserve  them  or  not. ' ' 

The  young  soldier  looked  at  her  oddly  from  the 
corner  of  his  eye.  Could  it  be  possible  that  two 
people  could  sit  so  close  together  and  speak  in  such 

46 


THE  PEODIGAL  FATHER 

hushed  confidence,  and  yet  that  one  of  them  could 
be  so  strangely  oblivious  as  not  to  know  when  she 
had  laid  her  slender  little  finger  on  the  other 's  open 
wound?  He  had  the  strictest  notions  of  duty  and 
of  honor:  it  was  absolutely  essential  she  never 
should  realize:  but,  alas!  the  sympathetic  widow 
was  playing  the  most  divinely  romantic  waltz.  To 
complete  the  horrible  temptation,  Ellen  looked  sud- 
denly at  him  with  her  tender  eyes  shining  and  her 
delicate  skin  gently  flushed  and  murmured  — 

' '  It  makes  me  wretched  —  I  pity  them  so !  " 

The  waltz  grew  more  romantic  with  every  note, 
the  temptation  to  feel  this  pity  soothe  his  own 
wound  more  irresistible. 

"  I  'm  one  of  'em,"  he  said. 

He  endeavored  to  compromise  with  duty  by 
throwing  the  most  unfeeling  ferocity  into  his  con- 
fession; but  even  the  best  drilled  soldier  cannot 
simultaneously  advance  and  stand  where  he  was. 

Ellen's  eyes  were  riveted  on  him  now. 

"  I  'm  sorry.  Have  I  said  anything  I 
shouldn't?  " 

She  looked  distressed,  and  he  realized  he  had 
overdone  the  ferocity. 

' '  No,  no,  I  assure  you.     I  only  meant  I  —  I  — 
well,  one  can't  have  everything." 
47 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

He  wished  that  delirious  waltz  would  stop.  It 
made  it  so  hard  to  collect  one 's  thoughts,  and  espe- 
cially to  recover  the  blank  countenance  he  had 
managed  to  assume  before  he  took  this  chair  and 
heard  that  music  and  looked  into  those  eyes.  She 
smiled  with  playful  kindness. 

' '  Are  you  so  frightfully  hard  up  ?  ' ' 
' '  It  is  n  't  money !     Oh,  can 't  you  — ' ' 
He  didn't  finish  his  sentence;  nor  did  he  need 
to.     A  sudden  light  dawned  in  Ellen's  eyes;  her 
lips  instinctively  parted;  and  then  she  turned  her 
face  away.     And  thus  they  sat  for  what  seemed 
an  hour,  while  the  sympathetic  widow  poured  out 
voluptuous  harmonies  without  cessation. 

In  reality  it  was  only  two  minutes  later  that  Mr. 
Walkingshaw  and  Andrew  entered :  the  senior  part- 
ner looking,  for  a  habitual  diner-out,  curiously 
flushed  after  his  mild  indulgence  in  port;  the  jun- 
ior partner 's  full  cheeks  bulging  with  the  backwash 
of  a  lover's  smile.  Frank  sprang  up,  and  his 
brother,  smiling  even  more  affectionately,  took  his 
chair.  At  the  same  moment  the  widow  stopped 
playing,  and  the  scales  seemed  suddenly  to  fall 
from  the  young  soldier's  eyes.  He  saw  himself  as 
the  most  despicable  villain  in  Europe,  and  Ellen 
as  lost  for  ever,  whether  as  sister  or  friend.  So 
48 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

distraught  was  he  that  he  had  nearly  tried  to  open 
a  mid-Victorian  cabinet  before  he  discovered  it  was 
not  the  door.  Downstairs  he  hurried  wildly,  threw 
on  an  ulster  and  cap,  and  the  front  door  banged 
behind  him. 

The  unhappy  young  man  looked  up  at  the  circle 
of  solemn  mansions  which  towered  above  him,  black 
against  the  dark  gray  heavens,  and  it  seemed  to 
him  that  each  one  as  he  passed  it  silently  rebuked 
him ;  while  the  trees  across  the  street,  even  though 
they  were  decidedly  less  solid,  gave  vent  to  their 
displeasure  audibly.  He  had  been  brought  up  in 
the  severest  Scotch  traditions,  and  though  life  in 
the  army  had  vastly  changed  his  outlook,  it  had  in 
certain  particulars  but  substituted  "  form  "  for 
"  duty."  To-night  both  standards  rose  spectrally 
and  shook  their  awful  fingers  at  him.  He  had  let 
his  heart  get  the  better  of  his  head!  No  member 
of  his  family  (save  luckless  Jean)  whom  he  ever 
knew  or  heard  of  had  done  such  a  thing  before. 
Or  if  they  had,  the  indiscretion  had  been  judi- 
ciously hushed  up,  and  the  family  escutcheon  kept 
stainless.  As  for  the  divinity  he  had  scandalized, 
she  would  never  forgive  him;  she  would  always 
think  of  him  as  a  traitor  to  his  respectable  brother ! 

At  this  point  a  little  star  peeped  out  of  the 
*  49 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

hurrying  clouds  and  vanished  again  instantly.     It 
was  as  though  some  power  above  had  winked. 

On  he  strode  through  the  steep,  empty  streets, 
lines  of  black  freestone  houses,  built  by  regular 
church-goers  and  unbreathed  upon  by  scandal  ever 
since,  frowning  upon  him  perpetually;  and  the 
wind,  which  had  risen  greatly,  wailing  and  boom- 
ing all  sorts  of  morals.  And  now  a  fresh  trouble 
agitated  him.  He  was  growing  less  contrite!  He 
kept  seeing  his  brother 's  bulging  cheeks,  and  Ellen 's 
innocent,  kind  smile,  and  all  sorts  of  backslidings 
suggested  themselves.  He  had  been  criminal 
enough  to  fall  in  love,  and  now  was  added  another 
crime  —  he  could  not  fall  out  again.  Never  had  he 
dreamt  of  such  depths  of  depravity  in  him,  Frank 
Walkingshaw. 

Again  a  little  star  twinkled  for  an  instant. 

It  was  a  full  two  hours  later  that  he  returned 
home,  footsore  (for  he  had  been  walking  in  his 
pumps)  and  with  a  mind  as  far  from  calm  as  ever. 
He  assumed  that  everybody  would  be  in  bed,  but 
no  sooner  had  he  shut  the  door  than  Jean  appeared, 
flying  downstairs  to  meet  him. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  with  a  note  of  disappointment, 
"  I  hoped  it  was  the  doctor!  " 

"  The  doctor!  "  he  exclaimed. 
50 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Hush!  "  she  whispered,  and  came  close  up  to 
him.  "  Father  has  suddenly  been  taken  very  ill." 

At  that  moment  Andrew  also  appeared,  to  see 
who  had  entered.  He  looked  portentously  grave. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  what  have  I  been  saying? 
It  's  happened  just  exactly  as  anybody  but  a  fool 
might  have  known  it  would  —  just  precisely.  He  's 
no  one  to  blame  but  himself  for  it  —  and  his  pre- 
cious Mrs.  Dunbar. ' ' 

He  rubbed  his  hands  almost  pleasantly. 

' '  That  quack  's  done  for  him  —  and  his  wine  to- 
night finished  the  job.  "Well,  I  warned  him  against 
both.  People  that  will  not  take  advice  must  bide 
the  consequences.  Are  you  going  to  stay  up  for 
Dr.  Mackenzie,  Jean?  " 

"  Of  course,"  she  said. 

"  Well  then,  I  might  as  well  get  off  to  my  bed. 
If  there  's  any  immediate  danger," — his  face  grew 
very  solemn, — ' '  if  the  end  's  expected  in  the  night, 
or  anything  like  that,  just  knock  on  my  door." 

The  junior  partner  bade  them  a  grave  good-night 
and  retired;  and  such  imaginative  persons  as  are 
not  satisfied  with  this  bald  record  of  facts,  may  pic- 
ture him  either  as  offering  up  a  brief  prayer  for 
his  father's  happy  recovery,  or  meditating  upon 
the  image  of  his  betrothed  —  or  both. 
51 


CHAPTER  VI 

FORTUNATELY,  it  proved  unnecessary  to  disturb 
the  junior  partner  during  the  night,  but  next  morn- 
ing, when  he  had  heard  the  doctor's  report  and 
personally  visited  the  sick-bed,  he  took  the  most 
serious  view  of  the  situation.  He  summoned  his 
two  married  sisters,  urging  them  to  lose  no  time; 
he  spent  only  half  an  hour  at  the  office;  and  then 
he  sat  down  with  his  Scotsman  in  the  library  (his 
Bible  accessible  in  case  of  emergencies)  to  await 
the  developments  that  he  grieved  to  think  were  now 
practically  inevitable.  The  doctor  had  paid  a  sec- 
ond visit  and  given  the  gloomiest  report.  Put  in 
a  nutshell,  it  came  to  this:  that  he  could  make 
neither  head  nor  tail  of  his  patient 's  symptoms,  but 
that,  as  they  were  clearly  the  result  of  a  course  of 
treatment  at  the  hands  of  an  unqualified  practi- 
tioner, it  was  improbable  that  Mr.  Walkingshaw 
would  recover  from  the  consequences  of  his  error. 

In  the  afternoon  he  was  told  that  his  father 
would  like  to  see  him.  He  had  finished  the 

52 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Scotsman  and  begun  a  conversation  with  his  be- 
trothed in  a  gently  facetious  vein,  but  it  took  him 
not  a  moment  to  adjust  his  features  to  the  rigidity 
of  an  urn,  and  save  for  the  faint  squeaking  of  his 
boots,  he  ascended  the  stairs  with  noiseless  solem- 
nity. He  found  Mr.  Walkingshaw  propped  up  on 
pillows  and  breathing  heavily.  The  demeanor  of 
both  was  exactly  becoming  to  the  situation. 

"  Are  you  suffering  much  pain?  "  inquired  the 
son  in  a  hushed  voice. 

"  It  comes  and  goes,"  sighed  the  father.  "  It 
was  just  diabolical  a  few  minutes  ago ;  now  it  's 
a  wee  thing  better,  thanks. ' ' 

"  A  kind  of  temporary  relief,"  suggested  the 
son. 

"  Possibly,  possibly.  I  'd  like  to  think  it  was 
going  to  last,  though." 

"  I  wish  I  could  hold  out  hopes,"  said  Andrew 
sympathetically. 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  stirred  suddenly. 

"  The  doctor  's  not  given  me  up  yet,  surely?  " 
he  exclaimed  in  a  louder  voice. 

"  Hush,  hush!  It  '11  only  hurry  things  if  you 
let  yourself  get  excited." 

"  But,  Andrew,  my  dear  boy,  tell  me  what  he 
said  to  you." 

53 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

The  junior  partner  shook  his  head,  kindly  but 
resolutely. 

"  No,  no;  not  yet  awhile.  So  long  as  your  mind 
remains  clear,  just  keep  composed ;  and  then,  when 
you  feel  any  decided  change,  I  '11  hold  nothing 
back  from  you,  and  we  can  get  the  rest  of  the  fam- 
ily round  the  bedside.  You  '11  agree  that  's  the 
best  thing." 

The  orthodoxy  of  this  programme  ought,  one 
would  think,  to  have  soothed  the  W.S.  But  it  is 
strange  what  fancies  sick  men  take. 

"  I  don't  agree  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Walkingshaw 
warmly.  "  In  fact,  I  may  tell  you  Cyrus  warned 
me  there  might  be  kind  of  temporary  complica- 
tions. ' ' 

He  looked  at  his  son  for  a  moment  and  then 
added,  with  sudden  decision  — 

"  Andrew,  I  'd  like  to  see  Cyrus." 

A  grim  smile  dilated  Andrew's  cheeks. 

"  You  '11  have  to  catch  him  first.     He  's  off." 

"  Off?  " 

"  Bolted  this  morning  as  soon  as  he  heard  he  'd 
done  for  you.  I  hear  he  owes  a  couple  of  hun- 
dred pounds  in  the  town,  one  way  and  another. 
That  's  your  Professor  for  you !  ' ' 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  groaned.  His  son  thought  it 
54 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

well  to  improve  the  occasion,  since  he  did  not  ex- 
pect to  have  many  more. 

' '  Him  and  his  radio-electricity !  "What  was  it 
he  was  going  to  do  —  renew  the  cells  of  the  body  ?  ' ' 

' '  Well,  why  should  n  't  cells  be  renewed  ?  ' '  pro- 
tested the  invalid  weakly. 

"  There  will  be,"  said  his  son  facetiously. 
"He  '11  find  himself  in  one  again  or  I  'm  mistaken." 

Mr.  "Walkingshaw  lay  silent  for  a  few  minutes. 
Then  suddenly  he  groaned. 

' '  Another  of  them  coming  on !  "  he  muttered, 
and  twisted  his  face  away. 

It  was  a  few  minutes  more  before  he  spoke  again. 

' '  I  trust  they  '11  catch  the  rascal !  Andrew,  my 
boy,  can  you  not  do  anything  to  assist  the  police?  " 

It  was  impressive  to  see  how  adequately  the  jun- 
ior partner  handled  each  fresh  development  of  the 
situation.  At  these  last  words  he  looked  exceed- 
ingly grave. 

"  Had  your  thoughts  not  better  be  turning  to 
other  things?  "  he  suggested. 

The  invalid's  head  started  forward  from  the 
pillow. 

"  Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  mind  your 
own — "  he  began;  and  then,  in  judgment,  another 
spasm  assailed  him. 

55 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Andrew  closed  his  eyes,  drew  down  the  corners 
of  his  mouth,  and  his  lips  moved  silently  but 
evidently  piously.  It  was  impossible  to  remain 
callous  to  such  an  elevating  influence. 

"  You  are  right,  Andrew;  you  are  right,"  said 
his  father.  "  And  now,  just  supposing  I  was 
taken,  you  '11  see  that  affair  of  Guthrie  and  Co. 
through  the  way  we  decided  on  ?  ' ' 

Andrew  opened  his  eyes  immediately  and  ex- 
hibited a  fresh  instance  of  his  adaptability  to  each 
changing  circumstance. 

"  I  Ve  just  been  thinking  of  a  better  method 
still,"  he  answered  promptly.  "  Why  should  the 
creditors  get  any  more  than  they  're  legally  en- 
titled to?  You  mind  yon  five  thousand  pounds 
invested  in  the  Grand  Trunk  Railway  ?  ' ' 

"  Perfectly,  perfectly." 

11  Well,  when  one  goes  into  the  thing,  they  Ve 
really  no  more  than  a  moral  right  to  that;  and  if 
one  once  begins  on  moral  rights,  there  's  no  end 
to  them." 

"  That  sounds  a  bit  worldly-wise,  Andrew;  but 
as  you  like  —  as  you  like. ' ' 

His  junior  partner  regarded  him  severely. 

"  I  may  remind  you  that  I  'm  only  following 
your  own  precepts." 

56 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHEE 

"  One  says  things  in  health  that  one  repents  of 
on  a  bed  of  sickness.  Manage  Guthrie  and  Co. 
as  you  like,  but  don 't  quote  me  if  you  mean  to  neg- 
lect moral  obligations.  I  had  the  decency  never 
to  quote  my  own  father,  and  it  's  the  least  you  can 
do  for  yours,  Andrew. ' ' 

Andrew  still  looked  displeased.  It  seemed  to 
his  fastidious  ears  that  there  was  an  unpleasant 
smack  of  something  remotely  resembling  cynicism 
in  this  speech.  It  sounded  almost  as  though  he 
were  expected  to  acquiesce  in  the  outrageous  propo- 
sition that  members  of  his  family  occasionally  al- 
lowed moral  to  be  overridden  by  practical  consider- 
ations. He  could  not  conceive  of  himself  admitting 
the  possibility  of  such  a  thing  even  in  the  secret 
recesses  of  his  soul.  It  was  most  uncomfortable 
to  listen  to  his  own  father  going  on  like  this.  He 
must  be  very  ill  indeed  —  evidently  at  death 's  door. 

He  walked  to  the  window  and  looked  out  gloom- 
ily upon  the  gray  clouds  driving  over  the  black 
chimney-cans.  The  wind  had  risen  to  a  moderate 
gale,  and  the  air  was  filled  with  sounds.  It  struck 
him  as  a  very  uproarious  day  for  a  Writer  to  the 
Signet  to  be  going  to  his  long  home.  He  had 
given  his  father  credit  for  soberer  tastes.  In  fact, 
he  was  reminded  unpleasantly  of  the  riotous  peo- 
57 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

pie  he  had  heard  of  who  passed  away  in  company 
with  a  pint  of  champagne  and  a  cigar.  This  sort 
of  thing  would  really  not  do. 

"  About  my  will,  Andrew,"  said  his  father's 
voice. 

He  turned  with  remarkable  alacrity  and  a  for- 
giving eye.  At  once  he  was  the  deferential  off- 
spring. 

"  You  '11  find  you  're  left  very  well  off,"  contin- 
ued Mr.  Walkingshaw. 

His  son's  cheeks  bulged  in  a  melancholy  smile; 
precisely  the  right  smile  under  the  circumstances. 

"  Not  at  the  expense  of  the  others,  I  hope,"  he 
answered  modestly. 

"  Oh,  I  was  meaning  you  'd  be  well  off  as  a 
family." 

The  smile  subsided. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Andrew. 

"  But  of  course  you  '11  get  the  bulk." 

The  smile  mournfully  returned. 

"  You  have  the  position  to  keep  up,  and  I 
thought  it  only  fair  to  you,"  said  Mr.  Walking- 
shaw. 

Andrew  bent  his  head  in  solemn  acknowledgment 
of  the  truth  of  this  observation  and  the  justice  of 
the  arrangement. 

58 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  There  's  just  one  little  addendum  I  want  to 
make.  This  unpleasant  affair  of  Jean 's  has  set  me 
thinking,  and  supposing  I  'm  taken,  Andrew  — 
just  supposing — " 

' '  Assuming  it  's  as  we  fear  —  I  understand,  I 
understand. ' ' 

"  Well,  then,  you  see,  I  '11  not  be  here  myself 
to  keep  Frank  and  Jean  from  doing  foolish-like 
things  if  they  happen  to  have  a  mind  to;  and 
they  're  not  like  you  and  their  sisters.  You  've 
all  chosen  sensibly,  but  they  're  in  a  kind  of  way 
different.  I  ought  to  have  had  them  educated  at 
home. ' ' 

"  What  I  Ve  always  said,"  his  son  agreed. 

"  Anyhow,  it  's  too  late  now,  and  what  I  '11 
just  have  to  do  is  this  —  introduce  a  clause  making 
them  forfeit  their  shares  if  they  marry  "without 
your  consent  in  the  next  five  years. ' ' 

"  Would  ten  not  be  safer?  "  suggested  Andrew. 

11  We  '11  say  seven,  then.  And  of  course  you  '11 
not  withhold  your  consent  unreasonably?  I  '11 
trust  you  for  that. ' ' 

Andrew's  attitude  expressed  to  such  perfection 
the  confidence  that  might  be  reposed  in  him  that 
his  father  shed  him  a  satisfied  smile. 

"  And  now,"  said  he,  "  I  wonder  had  you  not 
59 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

better  get  me  my  will  ?  —  or  we  might  wait  till  to- 
morrow, and  see  how  I  'm  feeling  then. ' ' 

If  the  junior  partner  had  looked  grave  before, 
he  looked  funereal  now. 

"  Your  mind  's  clear  now,"  he  said.  "  I 
would  n  't  put  it  off. ' ' 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Mr.  Walkingshaw,  "  there 
are  my  keys  on  the  dressing-table :  you  know  where 
to  find  the  will." 

Andrew  went  downstairs  as  solemnly  as  he  had 
come  up,  and  with  the  same  faint  squeak. 


60 


CHAPTER  VII 

IT  never  occurred  to  Frank  and  Jean  to  blame 
their  father  in  any  way  for  electing  so  boisterous 
a  day  for  his  probable  decease.  Clearly  they  had 
not  so  fine  an  instinct  for  respectability  as  their 
brother.  Their  orthodoxy,  compared  with  his,  was 
built  upon  a  sandy  foundation :  warm  hearts  can 
never  hope  to  sustain,  in  its  impressive  equipoise, 
the  head  of  an  Andrew  Walkingshaw.  One  might 
as  well  expect  to  find  sap  running  up  the  legs  of 
his  office  stool. 

That  afternoon  they  instinctively  drifted  away 
from  the  others  and  sat  unhappily  together.  The 
gusty  booming  of  the  wind  and  the  clash  of 
branches  in  the  garden  across  the  gale-scourged 
street  tormented  them  with  fancies.  It  seemed 
as  though  a  thousand  riotous  misfortunes  were  buf- 
feting their  hearts. 

"  Rain !  "  cried  Jean,  with  a  little  start  and  then 
a  shiver. 

"  Isn't  it  beastly?  "  muttered  Frank,  his  eyes 
on  the  carpet. 

61 


PRODIGAL  FATHER 

It  came  on  with  the  sudden  violence  of  a  thun- 
der-clap. In  a  moment  the  tossing  trees  became 
gesticulating  ghosts  seen  dimly  through  a  veil  of 
glistening  rods  of  water  sharply  diagonal  —  nearly 
horizontal;  and  even  through  the  musketry  rattle 
on  the  window-panes  they  could  hear  the  pavement 
hiss  beneath  their  deluge. 

"  Oh,  Frank  dear!  "  murmured  Jean. 

Giving  way  to  illogical  tenderness,  the  young 
soldier  took  her  hand  and  held  it. 

Of  course,  the  least  turn  for  hard  argument 
would  have  reassured  them.  The  storm  would 
blow  over ;  they  could  find  new  lovers ;  their  father, 
even  suppose  he  died,  would  receive  suitable  inter- 
ment. Besides,  they  would  be  the  richer  by  his 
decease.  But  they  remained  foolishly  moved. 

' '  If  anything  does  happen  to  father, ' '  said  Jean 
sorrowfully,  "  I  shall  never  forgive  myself." 

Frank  looked  surprised. 

* '  Forgive  yourself  —  for  what  ?  ' ' 

"  For  not  loving  him  more.  I  almost  hated 
him  yesterday." 

Her  voice  sank  very  low  and  she  looked  appre- 
hensively at  her  brother.  But  he  did  not  rebuke 
her  as  he  ought. 

62 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  It  's  jolly  difficult  to  love  him  sometimes,"  he 
admitted  sadly. 

She  seemed  to  gain  courage. 

"  Frank,"  she  said,  "  have  you  ever  actually  felt 
as  affectionate  about  him  as  one  ought?  " 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  He  never  struck  me  as  wanting  that  kind  of 
thing.  I  've  respected  him,  of  course." 

' '  Oh,  so  have  I  —  enormously. ' ' 

"  Well,"  said  Frank,  "  that  's  all  he  wanted  out 
of  us,  I  fancy." 

"  Still,"  she  murmured,  "  we  might  have  given 
him  something  more. ' ' 

' '  '  Pon  my  word,  I  don 't  know  what  he  'd  have 
done  with  it." 

She  could  not  but  admit  that  that,  in  fact,  was 
just  the  difficulty.  The  cultivation  of  sentiment 
had  not  been  included  in  Mr.  Walkingshaw 's 
youthful  curriculum.  His  father  before  him  had 
enjoyed  but  two  forms  of  relaxation  from  his 
daily  burden  of  obligations  to  clients  and  Calvin 
—  a  glass  of  good  claret,  and  a  primitive  form  of 
golf  played  with  a  missile  of  feathers  in  the  inter- 
stices of  a  tract  of  whins.  His  mother  had  not 
even  these  amusements.  Small  wonder  Heriot 
63 


.THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Walkingshaw  found  it  a  little  difficult  to  sympa- 
thize with  soft  creatures  who  demanded  hot-water 
bottles  at  night  and  affection  by  day.  Jean  had 
a  weakness  for  both,  and  had  only  managed  to 
obtain  the  hot  bottle  —  and  even  that  was  a  secret. 

The  deluge  continued  and  the  wind  bellowed. 
Lower  and  lower  sank  their  spirits. 

"  I  sometimes  wish  I  were  more  like  Andrew," 
sighed  Jean. 

The  young  soldier  started. 

"  Oh,  Heaven  forbid!  "  he  exclaimed,  and  then 
in  a  moment  added  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  wish  I  had 
his  luck,  though." 

Uean  softly  pressed  his  hand.     She  understood. 

"  I  wish  you  had,  Frank,"  she  whispered. 

As  if  in  rebuking  answer  to  these  impious  de- 
sires, the  portly  form  of  Andrew  filled  the  door- 
way. He  looked  like  the  reincarnation  of  all  the 
mourners  who  had  ever  followed  a  hearse. 

"  He  is  worse,"  he  said  in  a  sepulchral  voice. 
"  The  end  's  not  far  off.  You  had  better  come  up 
and  see  him." 

In  the  sick  chamber  they  found  already  as- 
sembled Miss  Walkingshaw,  Mrs.  Dunbar,  Ellen 
(who  kept  in  the  background  and  never  caught 
Frank's  eye  once),  and  their  two  elder  sisters.  Of 
64 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

this  pair,  Maggie,  the  eldest  of  them  all,  had  long 
been  coupled  with  Andrew  as  the  two  greatest 
credits  to  the  family.  She  was  the  wife  (and  in- 
cidentally, it  was  said,  the  making)  of  Ramornie 
of  Pettigrew,  a  laird  of  good  estate  in  the  kingdom 
of  Fife.  Her  business  capacity  was  almost  equal 
to  her  brother's.  She  had  extracted  Pettigrew 
from  the  hands  of  the  friends  who  had  been 
"  doing  him  no  good,"  paid  off  the  bonds  on  his 
property,  presented  him  with  three  creditable 
children,  including  the  necessary  heir  male,  and 
would  undoubtedly  have  put  him  into  Parliament 
could  she  have  ensured  her  own  presence  always 
at  his  side.  But  as  he  would  have  to  deliver  his 
speeches  himself,  even  if  she  composed  them,  she 
was  content  with  making  him  a  deputy-lieutenant. 
In  person  this  lady  suggested  the  junior  partner 
as  well  as  in  mind.  She,  however,  was  blonde, 
and  though  her  cheeks  took  after  his,  her  upper 
lip  was  not  quite  so  substantial. 

Gertrude,  the  second  sister,  was  now  Mirs. 
Donaldson,  wife  of  Hector  Donaldson,  advocate. 
At  the  time,  it  was  considered  'a  middling  sort  of 
marriage;  since  his  cross-examination  of  the  co- 
respondent in  Macpherson  v.  Macpherson  and  Tat- 
tenham-Welby,  it  had  been  considered  a  creditable 
6  65 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

marriage ;  and  if  his  practice  continued  its  present 
rate  of  increase,  it  would  soon  become  a  good 
marriage.  In  any  case,  she  had  justified  the 
Walkingshaw  reputation  for  investing  money  or 
person  soundly  and  shrewdly.  She  resembled  her 
father,  and  he  had  always  been  considered  a  fine- 
looking  man.  Both  Andrew  and  Maggie  thought 
she  got  too  many  of  her  clothes  in  London.  They 
made  her  a  little  conspicuous,  and  they  hoped  she 
could  afford  it.  Still,  one  heard  very  encouraging 
things  said  of  Hector  nowadays. 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  was  evidently  weakening.  He 
lay  back  with  his  eyes  closed  till  they  were  all 
assembled,  and  then  Andrew,  who  seemed  to  have 
the  entire  management  of  the  melancholy  cere- 
mony, stepped  up  to  the  bedside  and,  with  lowered 
eyelids,  murmured  — 

"  They  are  all  here  now." 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  opened  his  eyes. 

"  I  'm  likely  to  be  taken,"  he  said  in  a  weak 
voice.  ' '  Andrew  '11  have  told  you. ' ' 

He  paused:  and  one  little  stifled  sob  was 
heard,  too  gentle  to  catch  his  ear.  It  came  from 
Jean. 

"  I  'd  just  like  to  say  a  word  to  you  all  before 
66 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

I  go.  I  've  tried  my  best  to  do  my  duty  by  my 
children  and  my  sister  and  my  kinsfolk." 

At  this  specific  inclusion  of  herself  the  sym- 
pathetic widow  could  keep  silence  no  longer. 

' '  Indeed  you  have,  Heriot !  ' '  she  murmured. 

' '  Hush !  ' '  said  Andrew  sternly. 

11  Let  them  say  what  they  feel,  Andrew,"  said 
his  father,  with  a  glance  of  melancholy  kindness 
at  the  widow.  "  It  's  natural  enough." 

Mrs.  Ramornie  at  once  took  that  hint,  and  her 
brief  words  of  eulogy  were  corroborated  by  a 
general  murmur. 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Walking- 
shaw.  "  I  may  possibly  have  made  mistakes  now 
and  then  —  I  am  but  human.  At  the  same  time, 
I  think  there  's  none  will  gainsay  I  've  shown  a 
kind  of  respectable  example.  It  's  a  great  thing 
to  be  thankful  for  if  one  can  die  without  making 
an  exhibition  of  oneself  —  a  great  thing  to  be 
thankful  for." 

The  master  of  ceremonies  by  a  grave  glance 
indicated  to  the  company  that  another  approving 
murmur  would  be  appropriate,  and  his  own  voice 
led  the  hum. 

"  I  've  another  thing  to  be  thankful  for,"  re- 
67 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

sumed  the  invalid,  "  and  that  's  my  eldest  son. 
Andrew  '11  take  good  care  of  you  all  —  of  you 
and  the  business  both.  Oh,  Frank,  ray  lad,  he  's 
a  fine  example  to  you;  just  as  your  sister  Maggie 
is  to  you,  Jean.  Mind  you  both  follow  them. 
You  '11  never  give  folks  reason  to  talk  about  you 
then.  Don 't  get  yourselves  talked  about !  That  's 
the  main  thing.  Of  course,  you  '11  take  every  op- 
portunity of  bettering  yourselves,  both  of  you ;  but 
do  it  in  a  kind  of  sober,  decent  way.  Do  it  like 
Andrew :  I  can  say  no  more  than  that. ' ' 

All  eyes  were  sadly  fixed  on  the  two  distressed 
young  people,  but  they  made  no  answer,  and  the 
affecting  scene  now  terminated  with  these  last  few 
words  — 

"  If  by  any  kind  of  chance  it  happens  I  'm  given 
a  year  or  two  more  after  all,  I  '11  take  no  more 
part  in  worldly  matters.  I  '11  leave  things  to  you, 
Andrew,  just  the  same  as  if  I  was  gone.  If  I 
linger  on,  a  chastened  man,  taking  for  a  wee  while 
an  interest  in  your  welfare,  that  's  all  that  will  be 
left  to  me  —  that  's  the  whole  I  look  forward  to. ' ' 

Andrew's  sorrowful  eyes  replied,  "  And  that  's 
more  than  we  do,"  as  he  silently  shook  his  father's 
hand.  Then  the  company  tiptoed  sadly  out  of  the 
sick-room. 

68 


CHAPTER  VIII 

OF  all  the  anticipatory  mourners,  the  most  de- 
monstrative was  the  sympathetic  widow.  She 
could  barely  control  her  emotion  till  she  reached 
the  drawing-room.  There  she  broke  down  quite. 

"  Oh,  Mary,  Mary!  "  she  sobbed. 

They  were  alone  together  —  Mary,  commonly 
styled  Miss  Walkingshaw,  and  she.  The  exem- 
plary spinster  was  likewise  distressed,  but  in  a 
calmer  manner,  as  became  a  lady  who  had  shared 
Heriot's  Spartan  upbringing. 

"  Whisht,  whisht,"  said  she.  "  He  '11  maybe  get 
over  it  yet." 

"No  —  no,  he  won 't !  That  horrible  beast  will 
see  that  he  does  n  't !  " 

Miss  Wilkingshaw  started  nervously. 

' '  You  're  not  meaning  the  nurse  ?  ' ' 

"  I  mean  that  —  ugh!  —  that  Andrew!  " 

A  bright  pink  spot  appeared  in  each  of  Miss 
Walkingshaw 's   cheeks.     But  the   widow  was  too 
agitated  to  observe  either  them  or  the  horrified 
stare  with  which  she  greeted  this  outburst. 
69 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  I  believe  he  would  kill  him  to  spite  me !  " 

"  Madge!  "  said  the  exemplary  spinster  in  a 
voice  which  for  the  first  time  reminded  her  of 
Heriot  's. 

Mrs.  Dunbar  collected  herself.  Doubtless  she 
realized  the  injustice  she  was  doing  that  excellent 
man. 

' '  I  am  sorry,  Mary, ' '  she  said  gently.  ' '  I  don 't 
know  what  I  'm  saying.  I  admire  Andrew  as  much 
as  any  one.  I  did  n  't  mean  it.  It  was  only  that 
I  felt  I  had  to  blame  some  one  for  this  terrible 
sorrow. ' ' 

Her  friend  continued  to  look  at  her  with  de- 
cidedly diminished  warmth. 

"  Our  religion  forbids  us—  '  she  began  aus- 
terely; but  the  sympathetic  widow  hurriedly  an- 
ticipated her. 

' '  I  know,  I  know,  dear  —  so  it  does.  How  true, 
Mary;  oh,  how  true!  How  sweet  of  you  to  re- 
mind me." 

She  turned  her  large  black  eyes,  glistening 
pathetically,  full  upon  her  friend;  but  for  some 
reason  Mary  continued  to  regard  her  with  a  new 
and  curious  expression.  A  trace  of  suspicion 
seemed  to  be  among  its  ingredients. 

Meanwhile  her  slandered  nephew  was  in  the 
70 


THE  PKODIGAL  FATHER 

library  with  his  two  elder  sisters.  The  gas  was  now 
lit  and  the  storm  curtained  out.  Mrs.  Bamornie 
and  Andrew  talked  in  decorously  lowered  voices; 
Mrs.  Donaldson  more  loudly,  and  almost  more 
airily,  as  became  her  dashing  appearance  and 
smart  reputation.  Yet  she  too  had  a  nice  sense 
of  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion,  and  they  forgave 
her  elevated  voice,  since  they  knew  several  people 
of  rank  who  talked  like  that. 

"  An  irretrievable  loss,"  Andrew  was  saying; 
"  an  irretrievable  loss." 

They  agreed  with  him  as  heartily  as  people 
could  who  were  feeling  so  depressed. 

' '  A  public  loss, ' '  he  added ;  and  again  they  con- 
curred. 

"  That  will  have  to  be  taken  into  consideration 
in  making  the  arrangements,"  he  went  on. 

They  looked  graver  than  ever. 

"  Something  like  Sir  James  Maitland's?  "  sug- 
gested Mrs.  Donaldson. 

"  Something  of  the  sort,"  said  he. 

"  I  only  hope  it  will  not  be  a  wet  day,"  said 
Mrs.  Ramornie.  "  George  caught  lumbago  at  his 
last  funeral  —  Lord  Pitcullo  's,  you  know. ' ' 

George  was  the  laird  of  Pettigrew.  Nowadays 
his  wife  saw  that  he  mixed  with  none  but  the  most 
71 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

desirable  company,  whether  it  were  alive  or  dead. 

' '  Oh,  my  dear,  he  must  come  over  for  it !  "  said 
her  sister. 

' '  He  will, ' '  replied  Mrs.  Ramornie ;  and  they 
knew  that  point  was  settled. 

"  To  tell  the  honest  truth,  I  'm  devoutly  thank- 
ful for  one  thing, ' '  observed  Andrew,  with  the  first 
smile  he  had  permitted  himself,  and  even  it  was 
appropriately  grim :  ' '  this  will  put  Madge  Dun- 
bar 's  nose  out  of  joint.'* 

"  Thank  Heaven  for  that!  "  replied  Mrs.  Ra- 
mornie devoutly. 

"  She  meant  to  get  him,"  said  Mrs.  Donaldson. 
' '  I  never  saw  a  woman  try  harder. ' ' 

"  If  you  'd  been  living  in  the  house,  you  'd  have 
seen  still  more  of  her  trying, ' '  replied  her  brother. 

Another  fierce  shower  beat  upon  the  window, 
with  it  the  gale  rose  higher  and  the  branches 
clashed  more  noisily.  Even  behind  curtains  one 
felt  in  the  presence  of  something  elemental. 
Silence  fell  on  the  three,  and  when  they  spoke 
again  it  was  more  solemnly  than  ever. 

"  It  will  make  a  considerable  difference  to  us 
all,  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Donaldson. 

Her  brother  seemed  to  take  this  as  a  question, 
for  he  nodded  gravely  and  answered  — 
72 


THE  PEODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Oh,  decidedly  it  will  make  that." 

She  mused  for  a  moment  and  then  turned  to 
her  sister. 

"  What  was  the  name  of  the  shoot  the  Hen- 
dersons had  last  season?  " 

"  Glenfiddle." 

"  They  paid  two  hundred,  didn't  they?  " 

' '  Two  hundred  and  twenty, ' '  said  Andrew. 

He  was  a  mine  of  information  on  the  affairs  of 
his  acquaintances,  especially  on  what  they  paid  for 
things. 

"  Can  you  not  get  enough  invitations  in  the 
meantime?  "  asked  Mrs.  Ramornie. 

' '  Oh,  dozens.  But  we  want  a  little  shoot  of  our 
own  —  when  we  can  afford  it." 

"  I  only  mean  to  build  that  new  conservatory 
we  've  always  been  talking  about,"  said  Mrs. 
Ramornie ;  and  Andrew  pursed  his  lips  and  nodded 
his  approval.  The  pursing  was  meant  as  a  hint 
of  criticism  on  their  too  dashing  sister. 

It  was  at  that  moment  that  there  came  the 
first  gentle  tap  upon  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Andrew,  and  the  invalid's 
nurse  entered. 

"  Mr.  Walkingshaw  would  like  a  pint  bottle  of 
champagne,"  said  she. 

73 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

The  junior  partner  stared  first  at  her  and  then 
at  his  sisters.  They  in  turn  opened  their  eyes. 

' '  Is  it  the  —  er  —  usual  thing  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  The  doctor  said  nothing  about  it.  Who  would 
ever  imagine  he  was  going  to  want  champagne 
again?  " 

' '  Is  it  ever  given  ?  ' '  asked  Andrew  cautiously. 

"  Oh,  I  know  it  's  given,"  interposed  Mrs. 
Ramornie  decisively.  ' '  George 's  uncle  drank  it  up 
to  five  minutes  before  he  died." 

George's  uncle  had  been  a  very  bad  example. 
At  the  same  time  he  had  been  a  baronet,  and 
Andrew  swithered  between  the  dissoluteness  of  the 
request  and  a  certain  stylishness  it  undoubtedly 
possessed. 

"  Mr.  Walkingshaw  is  very  determined  for  it," 
said  the  nurse. 

11  Very  well,"  he  answered.  "  I  '11  get  it  for 
you. ' ' 

He  went  out  with  her  and  then  returned  to  his 
sisters. 

"  Does  it  mean  the  end  is  near?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Donaldson  in  a  very  hushed  voice. 

' '  It  means  it  's  nearer, ' '  he  answered  grimly. 

Undoubtedly  this  was  a  wild  end  for  one  of  the 
most  respectable  lives  ever  lived  in  Edinburgh. 

74 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Outside,  the  gale  was  now  positively  shrieking ;  and 
inside,  he  presumed  the  cork  was  already  popping. 

"  What  a  pity!  "  said  Gertrude. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  about  that,"  replied  her 
sister.  "  It  keeps  them  happy.  George's  uncle 
tried  to  sing  after  they  thought  all  was  over." 

Her  brother  frowned.  The  possibility  that  the 
head  of  Walkingshaw  &  Gilliflower  might  exit 
singing  exceeded  his  gloomiest  forebodings.  He 
wished  women  did  not  have  that  habit  of  talking 
about  unpleasant  things.  Could  they  not  keep  the 
like  of  that  to  themselves  ? 

Even  as  he  frowned  the  second  tap  disturbed 
them. 

"  What  is  it  now?  "  he  snapped. 

"  Could  you  tell  me,"  asked  the  nurse,  "  where 
Mr.  Walkingshaw  keeps  his  cigars?  " 

"  Cigars!  "  he  cried. 

' '  He  is  very  set  upon  one. ' ' 

Andrew  silently  opened  a  cupboard  and  handed 
her  a  box  of  cigars.  Then,  still  in  silence,  he 
seated  himself  before  the  fire  and  frowned  at  the 
dancing  flames.  Behind  his  back  his  sisters  talked 
in  low  voices,  but  he  seemed  to  have  no  taste  for 
further  conversation. 

A  few  minutes  later  came  the  third  tap,  and 
75 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

this  time  there  was  so  curious  a  look  in  the  nurse's 
face  that  the  junior  partner  was  on  his  feet  in  an 
instant. 

"  Is  it  —  shall  we  come  up?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Mr.  Walkingshaw  would  like  to  know  what 
there  's  to  be  for  dinner,"  said  the  nurse. 

He  looked  at  his  sisters  and  they  at  him,  and 
then  he  rang  the  bell.  Nobody  spoke  till  the  butler 
came  up. 

"  Will  you  ask  the  cook  what  's  for  dinner? 
Mr.  Walkingshaw  wants  to  know. ' ' 

Andrew  threw  into  this  speech  all  the  concen- 
trated bitterness  of  his  soul.  Here  was  the  quintes- 
sence of  unorthodoxy  in  the  very  home  of  Walk- 
ingshaw &  Gilliflower!  The  head  of  the  firm  pro- 
posed to  die  not  merely  drinking  and  smoking,  but, 
if  possible,  feasting.  They  might  be  in  some 
wretched  Bohemian  den. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  butler  returned  with  a 
menu.  Andrew  read  it  with  a  sardonic  smile. 

"  Tell  him,"  he  said,  "  that  he  can  have  cocky- 
leeky  soup,  boiled  cod  and  oyster  sauce,  loin  of 
mutton,  apple  charlotte,  and  cheese  straws  —  any 
or  all  of  them  he  likes." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  nurse. 

Andrew  planted  himself  before  the  fire. 
76 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"A  fine  story  this  is  to  get  about!  "  he  ex- 
claimed darkly. 

"  But  surely  father  must  be  light-headed,"  said 
Mrs.  Ramornie. 

"  Umph,"  he  replied. 

He  clearly  did  not  consider  this  a  very  credit- 
able excuse. 

"  Or  perhaps  he  is  really  feeling  better,"  sug- 
gested Gertrude. 

' '  Better !  A  man  at  death 's  door  one  minute 
—  given  up  by  the  doctors  —  and  wanting  to  eat 
his  dinner  the  next!  " 

He  started. 

' '  I  wonder  's  that  nurse  fooling  us !  I  did  n  't 
like  the  look  of  the  woman  from  the  moment  she 
came  into  the  house.  I  don't  believe  in  your  good- 
looking  nurses." 

On  this  point  his  sisters  cordially  agreed  with 
him.  Still  they  did  n 't  believe  it  was  the  nurse. 

"  Then  what  is  it?  "  he  demanded.  "If  he  's 
light-headed,  why  does  she  pay  any  attention  to 
him?" 

The  door  opened,  this  time  without  a  tap,  and 
in  petrified  silence  they  beheld  the  portly  form  of 
Heriot  Walkingshaw,  arrayed  in  a  yellow  dressing- 
gown,  holding  between  his  fingers  a  cigar,  and 
77 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

smiling  upon  them  with  a  curious  blend  of  satis- 
faction and  meekness. 

"  I  have  recovered,"  said  he. 

As  he  made  this  simple  announcement  he  blew 
luxuriously  through  his  nose  two  thin  streams  of 
smoke,  while  the  meekness  of  his  aspect  seemed 
to  make  some  conscious  effort  to  keep  on  terms 
with  the  satisfaction. 

A  duet  of  questions  and  exclamations  arose 
from  the  two  ladies,  and  again  some  conscious 
restraint  appeared  to  underlie  the  paternal  calm 
with  which  he  answered  them. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  it  is  probably  one  of  the  most 
extraordinary  recoveries  on  record.  It  began  all 
of  a  sudden.  The  spasms  passed  completely  away, 
my  temperature  fell  to  normal,  and  I  felt  a  curious 
sensation  almost  of  exhilaration.  It  grew  stronger 
and  stronger  till  at  last  I  could  keep  in  bed  no 
longer.  I  felt  livelier  than  I  have  for  years. ' ' 

He  passed  the  cigar  under  his  nose,  drew  in 
his  breath,  and  smiled  at  it  with  a  kind  of  partially 
chastened  affection. 

"  Do  you  think  could  we  not  have  dinner  put 
on  a  little  earlier,  eh  ?  " 

A  cry  from  the  open  door  startled  them.  The 
78 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

sympathetic  widow,  her  black  eyes  dilated,  was 
gazing  at  the  patient. 

* '  Heriot !  ' '  she  exclaimed,  and  there  was  a  note 
in  her  voice  that  came  very  near  to  damping  the 
junior  partner's  enthusiasm  at  finding  the  head  of 
his  firm  restored  to  him. 

"  Yes,  Madge,"  said  Mj1.  Walkingshaw,  his 
beatific  smile  still  blander,  "  I  have  indeed  been 
spared." 

He  drew  another  deep  whiff  from  his  cigar,  and 
added  gently  — 

"  For  maybe  a  few  more  years  of  quiet  useful- 
ness." 


79 


PART  II 


CHAPTER  I 

DOWN  the  steep  street  where  stands  the  office 
of  Walkingshaw  &  Gilliflower,  careers  a  hat.  It  is 
a  silk  hat  and  of  a  large  size,  the  hat  of  a  pro- 
fessional man  of  the  most  dignified  standing  and 
evident  brain  capacity.  Nothing  could  show  bet- 
ter the  innate  depravity  of  March  winds  than 
their  choice  of  such  a  hat  to  play  with.  They 
had  thousands  to  choose  from  —  bowlers,  caps, 
wideawakes,  all  kinds  of  commonplace  head-gear 
—  and  here  they  have  selected  for  their  sport  this 
cylinder  of  silk,  symbolical  of  all  most  worthy  of 
the  city's  respect.  It  leaps  and  bumps  and  slides, 
propelled  by  the  breeze  and  the  law  of  gravita- 
tion, down  the  decorously  paved  hill,  in  company 
with  a  little  cloud  of  dust  and  some  scraps  of  dirty 
paper.  And  behind  it,  now  at  a  canter,  now  at 
a  panting  trot,  ambles  the  portly  form  of  Mr. 
Heriot  Walkingshaw.  The  very  devil  must  be  in 
the  wind  to-day. 

At  the  corner  of  Queen  Street  the  hat  met  the 
83 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

full  force  of  the  easterly  blast,  and  bidding  good- 
by  to  gravitation,  turned  at  right  angles  and 
skimmed  for  forty  yards  through  space  as  though 
the  brothers  Wright  had  mounted  it.  Then  it 
resumed  the  action  of  a  Rugby  football,  pitching 
now  on  its  end  and  now  on  its  middle,  and  be- 
having accordingly  each  time.  Mr.  Walkingshaw, 
perceiving  that  it  was  now  bouncing  in  the 
direction  he  desired  to  go,  fell  for  a  moment  to 
a  walk  and  looked  around  for  some  assistant.  But 
the  only  spectators  within  hail  happened  to  be  two 
errand  boys  who  had  not  seen  a  circus  for  some 
time  and  evinced  no  desire  to  interrupt  the  en- 
tertainment. So  off  he  started  again,  his  white 
spats  twinkling  beneath  his  flapping  overcoat,  and 
covered  the  first  fifty  yards  in  such  promising 
fashion  that  he  was  able  to  strike  the  revolving 
rim  a  series  of  smart  raps  with  his  umbrella  be- 
fore the  wind  had  recovered  its  breath.  Then 
suddenly  up  leapt  the  hat,  cannoned  from  a  lamp- 
post on  to  the  railings  of  the  Queen  Street 
Gardens,  from  them  across  the  pavement  into  the 
gutter,  and  there,  getting  nicely  on  edge,  careered 
like  a  hoop,  with  the  thud  of  Heriot's  footsteps 
growing  fainter  behind. 

Down  the  next  cross  street  came  two  acquaint- 
84 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

ances   of   the    Writer    to    the    Signet,    and   they 
stopped  at  the  corner  in  amazement. 

''Good  God,  that's  Heriot  Walkingshaw!  " 
cried  one. 

"  A  man  of  his  age!  "  replied  the  other;  "  he  's 
running  like  a  wing  three-quarter  —  look  at  his 
stride!  " 

A  benevolent  lady  half  stopped  the  hat  with 
her  umbrella.  The  W.S.  was  up  to  it.  He 
stooped  to  reach  it  —  a  quick  grab  and  he  had  it 
by  the  rim. 

' '  "Well  picked  up,  sir !  "  cried  one  of  the  ac- 
quaintances. 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  did  not  hear.  He  was  on  the 
other  side  of  the  street  and  engrossed  in  brushing 
his  quarry  with  his  coat  sleeve. 

"  It  's  a  wonderful  performance,"  remarked  the 
other  acquaintance ;  ' '  but  it  ought  just  about  to 
finish  him." 

"  Will  it?  Look  at  him  —  he  hasn't  turned  a 
hair!" 

"It's  amazing  —  positively  amazing!"  they 
murmured  together  as  they  watched  their  elderly 
friend  not  only  replace  his  trophy  on  his  head, 
but  cock  it  at  an  angle  that  breathed  reckless  de- 
fiance to  the  March  winds. 
85 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

' '  Did  you  ever  see  Heriot  Walkingshaw  with  his 
hat  at  that  angle  before  ?  ' ' 

"  As  often  as  I  've  seen  him  do  even  time  chas- 
ing it!  " 

Off  he  strode,  breathing  faster  than  usual,  and 
his  hat  still  a  little  ruffled,  but  otherwise  as  jaunty 
a  figure  as  ever  left  an  office;  while  his  two  ac- 
quaintances went  away  to  narrate  to  the  wonder- 
ing city  what  their  astonished  eyes  had  seen. 

Meanwhile  the  junior  partner  was  unburdening 
his  soul  to  the  confidential  clerk. 

"  That  's  the  end  of  Guthrie  and  Co. !  "  he  ex-< 
claimed  wrathfully.  "  The  whole  thing  settled  in 
a  fortnight  —  we  might  be  a  marriage  registry! 
It  's  just  been  '  we  agree  to  this,'  '  we  agree  to 
that,'  '  we  agree  to  anything  you  suggest.'  We 
haven't  fought  a  single  point.  I  'd  have  made 
those  creditors  whistle  a  bit  before  they  saw  yon 
five  thousand  pounds !  But  what  's  my  father  say  ? 
You  heard  him  yourself — '  moral  obligation  '- 
'might  be  fought!  '— '  get  it  settled.'  He's 
botched  the  whole  business." 

Mr.  Thomieson  shook  his  grizzled  head. 

"  It  's  certainly  not  been  our  usual  way  of  doing 
business. ' ' 

86 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Andrew  glowered  at  his  desk. 

"  He  said  he  was  going  to  leave  the  business 
to  me,  and  in  forty-eight  hours  he  was  taking  more 
responsibilities  on  his  shoulders  than  he  had  for 
years!  He  barely  has  the  decency  to  ask  me  for 
my  opinion  now;  and  when  I  give  it,  he  tells  me 
it  's  timid.  Timid!  "  The  junior  partner's  voice 
rose  to  a  shout.  "  He  just  goes  at  things  like  a 
bull,  and  before  I  've  time  to  get  in  two  words 
edgeways,  the  thing  is  settled  and  he  's  out  of  the 
office  whistling!  " 

"  That  whistling  's  a  queer  thing  he  's  taken  to," 
observed  the  clerk. 

' '  He  was  doing  it  coming  home  from  church  last 
Sunday." 

"  Verra  strange,  verra  strange,"  commented  Mr. 
Thomieson. 

He  seemed  more  struck  with  the  peculiarity 
of  the  senior  partner's  conduct;  Andrew  with  its 
offensiveness. 

"  He  shows  a  fine  grasp  of  things  all  the  same," 
added  the  clerk.  "  In  that  way  it  fairly  does  me 
good  sir,  to  see  him  so  speerited.  It  minds  me  of 
old  times. ' ' 

"  A  proper  like  business  we  'd  have  had  to-day 
if  he  'd  gone  on  like  this  in  old  times!  "  grumbled 
87 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Andrew.  "  He  gets  through  things  quick  enough, 
I  admit;  but  I  tell  you  he  does  not  take  the  same 
interest  in  them.  He  talks  of  '  dry  details  ' !  " 

"  Is  that  so?  "  said  Mr.  Thomieson,  his  eyes 
opening. 

"  It  's  a  fact.  And  he  's  started  cracking  jokes 
with  the  clerks." 

1 l  Aye,  I  heard  him  yesterday  myself.  It  sounded 
awful  bad  in  this  office." 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  '11  end  in,"  said  Andrew. 
' '  It  '11  end  in  our  losing  our  business  —  that  '11  be 
the  end  of  it.  And  this  is  what  he  calls  '  a  few 
years  of  quiet  usefulness  ' !  " 

The  junior  partner's  upper  lip  seemed  to  hang 
like  a  curtain  half  covering  his  face.  Behind  it 
he  swore  so  distinctly  that  the  confidential  clerk 
discreetly  withdrew. 


CHAPTER  II 

"  IT  's  quite  remarkable  how  well  I  'm  keeping 
—  quite  astonishing,"  said  Mr.  Walkingshaw  to 
himself,  as  he  continued  his  walk  with  his  re- 
covered hat  perched  at  the  angle  that  had  so  sur- 
prised his  acquaintances. 

A  month  had  passed  since  the  stormy  afternoon 
when  he  had  said  farewell  to  his  family,  and  he 
now  looked  back  upon  that  adieu  as  the  rashest 
and  most  premature  act  of  his  life.  Andrew 
must  have  frightened  him;  that  was  the  only  con- 
ceivable excuse  for  his  conduct,  seen  in  the  white 
light  of  his  present  rude  health;  and  he  secretly 
decided  that  the  junior  partner  had  been  getting 
a  little  too  much  rope.  If  you  once  let  these  lads 
kick  up  their  heels,  the  deuce  was  in  it.  He  would 
do  nothing  unjust,  but  he  would  see  that  he  did  n  't 
encourage  Andrew  to  alarm  him  again.  Thus  does 
the  virtue  even  of  the  most  exemplary  occasion- 
ally over-exert  itself. 

Meanwhile,  it  was  uncommonly  pleasant  to  be 
able  to  chase  one's  hat  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  and 
89 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

feel  not  a  twinge  of  gout  or  rheumatism  after 
the  merry  pursuit.  Mr.  Walkingshaw  felt  half 
inclined  to  give  his  hat  a  start  again.  What  a  joke 
it  would  be  to  kick  it  over  the  railings  next  time ! 
At  this  very  undignified  thought,  he  recollected 
himself  and  for  a  few  minutes  looked  as  decorously 
pompous  as  the  head  of  the  firm  should.  But 
somehow  or  other  that  run  seemed  to  have  stirred 
his  blood.  The  fun  of  kicking  his  hat  over  the 
railings  returned  so  forcibly  that  there  spread  over 
his  ruddy  face  a  smile  which  greatly  surprised  the 
wife  of  one  of  his  most  respected  clients  passing  at 
that  moment  in  her  carriage.  She  too  returned 
home  to  talk  of  Mr.  Walkingshaw 's  curious  de- 
meanor in  the  public  streets  of  his  native  city. 

The  kicking  fancy,  by  a  natural  chain  of  thought, 
reminded  him  that  the  England  and  Scotland  In- 
ternational was  being  played  next  Saturday.  He 
must  be  there,  of  course;  and  wouldn't  he  shout 
himself  hoarse  for  Scotland!  He  had  a  moment's 
dismay  when  he  remembered  that  old  Berstoun  had 
made  an  appointment  to  come  in  on  Saturday  and 
see  him  about  his  confounded  money  affairs. 
Then  he  cheered  up  again.  Let  the  old  chap  be 
hanged !  He  would  wire  and  put  him  off.  In  fact, 
he  must  be  put  off.  For  had  not  Madge  Dunbar 
90 


promised  to  come  to  the  match  with  him?  By  this 
time  he  had  reached  the  door  of  his  house,  and  it 
occurred  to  him  forcibly  that  afternoon  tea  was 
always  a  much  pleasanter  function  if  Madge  were 
present.  He  hoped  she  would  n  't  be  out  calling. 

The  dignified  twilight  of  his  hall  sobered  him 
considerably.  He  had  been  following  a  strangely 
frivolous  line  of  thought,  he  told  himself.  Cer- 
tainly he  must  never  allow  his  hat  to  escape  again. 
That  run  had  quite  upset  his  equanimity :  he  found 
himself  going  upstairs  two  steps  at  a  time,  and  had 
to  pause  and  shorten  his  stride. 

In  the  drawing-room  he  found  his  sister  and  the 
widow. 

"  Hullo!  "  said  the  W.S.  before  he  could  recol- 
lect himself. 

' '  Hullo !  ' '  smiled  the  widow  archly. 

He  had  felt  ashamed  of ,.  the  exclamation  the 
moment  it  escaped  him,  but  finding  it  received  so 
prettily,  he  secretly  resolved  to  say  it  again  some 
day  —  after  a  week  or  two  had  elapsed,  perhaps; 
confining  himself  to  more  dignified  remarks  in  the 
interval. 

"  You  look  as  though  you  had  heard  good  news," 
said  Mrs.  Dunbar. 

"  I  've  been  chasing  my  hat,"  he  chuckled. 
91 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

He  had  meant  to  make  no  allusion  to  the  un- 
dignified episode,  and  here  he  was  blurting  it  out 
first  thing!  He  began  to  feel  puzzled  by  this  odd 
persistence  of  high  spirits. 

' '  Not  in  the  street,  surely  ?  ' '  said  Miss  "Walking- 
shaw,  with  her  longest  face. 

"  Oh,  I  hope  it  was  in  the  street!  "  cried  the 
widow.  "  I  'd  have  loved  to  see  you!  " 

Her  dear  friend  regarded  this  speech  with  the 
strongest  disapproval ;  in  fact,  she  had  never  quite 
approved  of  Madge  since  those  unlucky  words  of 
hers.  But  Mrs.  Dunbar  had  ceased  for  some 
reason  to  show  the  same  marked  regard  for  her 
opinion.  It  was  Heriot  who  had  again  refused  to 
hear  of  her  leaving,  and  she  seemed  content  to 
win  his  approval. 

' '  It  was  in  the  street, ' '  smiled  Mr.  Walkingshaw. 
' '  I  chased  it  for  quite  half  a  mile,  and  ran  it  down 
single-handed.  I  wish  you  had  been  there,  Madge. 
You  'd  have  seen  there  was  life  in  the  old  dog 
still!" 

He  had  doubled  the  distance  and  forgotten  the 
lady  with  the  umbrella;  but  then,  as  Andrew  had 
remarked,  a  distaste  for  dry  detail  had  suddenly 
)ecome  characteristic  of  his  recovered  health. 
92 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Too  much  life  sometimes,  I  think!  "  she  ex- 
claimed coquettishly ;  and  Mr.  Walkingshaw  winked 
in  reply. 

He  was  inwardly  as  surprised  at  the  wink  as 
he  had  been  at  the  "  hullo."  These  aberrations 
seemed  to  come  quite  spontaneously.  He  wished 
he  could  understand  what  caused  them. 

"  Have  you  had  a  tiring  day  at  the  office?  " 
asked  the  dry  Scotch  voice  of  his  sister. 

Her  familiar  accents  instinctively  banished  the 
aberrations. 

"  Tolerably,  tolerably,"  he  said,  with  his  old  air. 
"  We  had  the  affairs  of  Guthrie  and  Co.  to  settle 
up.  I  settled  them,  though. ' ' 

"  Andrew  would  be  a  great  help,"  she  replied, 
with  an-  apprehensive  glance  at  him.  She  was 
much  in  her  nephew 's  confidence  at  present. 

"Andrew,  pooh!"  said  his  father.  "He'd 
talk  the  hind  leg  off  an  elephant.  When  things 
need  settling,  I  just  settle  them  myself  and  leave 
him  to  grumble  away  to  Thomieson." 

Miss  Walkingshaw  gasped,  and  the  widow  gave 
the  sweetest  little  laught. 

"  Poor  Andrew !  "  said  she. 

"  Poor  Andrew  indeed,"  retorted  her  friend, 
93 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

with  more  indignation  than  she  had  almost  ever 
permitted  herself  in  the  presence  of  her  formidable 
brother. 

He  looked  at  her  in  genuine  surprise.  So 
subtly  had  his  point  of  view  altered  that  he  quite 
failed  to  grasp  her  cause  of  complaint. 

' '  What  's  the  matter,  Mary  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  if  you  don't  see,  what  's  the  good  in  my 
trying  to  explain  ?  ' ! 

He  merely  stared  at  her,  and  the  widow  tactfully 
interposed. 

' '  Of  course  you  are  going  to  the  match  on  Satur- 
day ?  ' '  said  she. 

"  Of  course,  Madge." 

"  Have  you  forgotten  Mr.  Berstoun  is  coming  to 
see  you?  "  asked  Miss  Walkingshaw. 

He  waved  aside  this  objection  with  a  dignified 
sweep  of  his  hand.  A  piece  of  cake  happened  to 
be  in  it,  and  the  icing  flew  across  the  floor.  On  the 
instant  he  was  on  his  hands  and  knees  collecting  it. 
'"  Berstoun  's  a  mere  nuisance,"  he  answered 
from  the  carpet.  "  He  '11  never  get  out  of  debt  if 
he  lives  to  a  thousand.  What  's  the  good  in  his 
coming  to  see  me?  Let  him  tell  his  creditors  to 
go  to  the  devil ;  that 's  the  only  sensible  thing  to 
do." 

94 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

He  rose  chuckling  — 

"  He  '11  go  himself  some  day;  so  they  '11  meet 
again." 

His  sister's  face  was  too  much  for  the  widow's 
gravity.  She  began  to  laugh  hysterically,  her 
black  eyes  dancing  all  the  time  in  the  merriest 
fashion  at  her  host.  It  was  so  infectious  that  in 
a  moment  he  had  joined  her. 

"  Won't  they?  "  he  kept  asking  through  his 
chuckles.  "  Won't  they,  Madge?  " 

She  kept  nodding,  choked  with  laughter,  and 
another  strange  sensation  began  to  puzzle  Mr. 
Walkingshaw.  It  was  not  so  much  something  new 
as  something  forgotten  which  was  beginning  to 
return,  and  it  concerned  this  very  sympathetic 
widow.  She  was  an  uncommonly  nice  woman  — 
really  uncommonly:  and  what  an  odd  pleasure  he 
began  to  feel  in  her  society !  He  felt  even  more 
satisfaction  than  when  he  had  run  down  his  hat. 


CHAPTER  III 

IT  was  upon  a  fine  April  morning  that  Mr.  Walk- 
ingshaw  made  his  momentous  discovery.  His  sis- 
ter had  left  her  room  on  her  way  to  breakfast  when 
she  heard  his  voice  calling  her.  It  had  so  curious 
a  note  of  excitement  that  she  got  a  little  flustered. 
Whatever  could  be  the  matter  ?  She  hurried  to  his 
dressing-room  door  and  tapped  with  a  trembling 
hand.  She  was  not  easily  agitated  as  a  rule,  but 
her  brother  had  been  very  disconcerting  for  the 
past  few  Weeks,  and  now  his  voice  was  odd.  She 
remembered  reading  of  gentlemen  lying  on  their 
dressing-room  floors  with  razors  in  their  hands  — 

' '  Come  in !  "he  cried  impatiently. 

She  found  him  dressed  all  but  his  coat,  and  he 
was  standing  by  the  window  looking  out  over  the 
street  and  the  circular  garden. 

"  Come  here,  Mary,"  he  said,  and  pointed  at  the 
houses  seen  through  the  leafless  trees.  ' '  Have  they 
been  doing  anything  to  the  Hendersons'  house?  " 

"  What  doing  to  it?  "  she  exclaimed. 
96 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

' '  Painting  it,  or  brightening  it,  or  —  or  anything 
of  that  kind?  " 

"  Who  ever  heard  of  painting  a  house!  " 

From  which  it  may  be  gathered  that  the  good 
lady  was  not  in  the  habit  of  visiting  other  cities. 

"  Well  then,  washing  it?  " 

' '  Mr.  Henderson  washing  his  house !  Whatever 
would  he  do  that  for?  " 

"  Tuts,  tuts,"  said  her  brother,  "  I  'm  only  ask- 
ing you.  It  looks  so  uncommonly  distinct.  Can 
you  not  count  the  chimney-cans  ?  ' ' 

"  Me?  You  must  get  younger  eyes  than  mine, 
Heriot." 

"  I  can  count  them,"  he  answered. 

' '  You  can !  But  I  thought  you  'd  been  com- 
plaining you  couldn't  always  recognize  people 
across  the  street  nowadays." 

"  I  can  count  those  chimneys,"  he  repeated. 
"  I  Ve  counted  them  five  times,  and  they  come  to 
fourteen  each  time.  I  'd  like  to  get  some  one 
younger  to  count  them  too.  Where 's  Madge 
Dunbar?  " 

He  started  impetuously  for  the  door. 

' '  She  's  dressing !  ' '  cried  the  horrified  lady. 
"  You  can't  get  her  in  here  —  you  with  your  coat 
off,  too!  " 

7  97 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  turned  back. 

"  Well,  anyhow,"  said  he,  "  I  '11  lay  you  half  a 
crown  there  are  fourteen  chimneys  on  Henderson's 
house.  Will  you  take  it  up  ?  " 

"  When  did  you  hear  I  'd  taken  to  betting?  "  she 
gasped. 

He  waved  aside  the  reproach  airily,  much  as  he 
waved  aside  everything  she  said  nowadays,  the  poor 
lady  reflected.  His  next  words  merely  deepened 
her  distress. 

"  Look  at  my  face  carefully,"  he  commanded. 
* '  Study  it  —  touch  it  if  you  like  —  examine  it  with 
a  lens  —  give  it  your  undivided  attention  while  I 
count  twenty." 

He  counted  slowly,  while  she  stared  conscien- 
tiously, afraid  even  to  wink.  "  Now,  what  have 
you  observed?  " 

"  You  're  looking  very  well,  Heriot,"  she  an- 
swered timidly. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  a  man  of  my  age  look  bet- 
ter? " 

"  N  —  no,"  she  stammered. 

"  Well,  don't  be  afraid  to  say  so,  for  it  's  per- 
fectly true.  Do  you  mind  a  kind  of  deep  wrinkle 
under  my  eyes?  Where  's  that  gone  now?  " 

"  I  can't  imagine,  Heriot." 
98 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

' '  Well,  don 't  look  distressed ;  it  's  bonnier 
away." 

"  Yes,"  she  said  in  a  flustered  voice,  "  you  do 
have  a  kind  of  smoother  look. ' ' 

"  Smoother  and  harder,"  he  replied,  prodding 
his  ribs  with  his  fingers. 

She  gave  a  little  cry  of  distress. 

* '  You  're  growing  thin !  Your  waistcoat  's 
hanging  quite  loose.  Oh,  Heriot,  it  's  terrible  to 
see  you  that  way !  ' ' 

Her  heart  might  be  a  little  withered  by  all  those 
northern  winters,  with  never  another  heart  to  keep 
it  warm,  but  it  could  still  beat  faster  at  a  breath 
of  suspicion  cast  upon  her  hospitality.  She  had  not 
been  feeding  her  only  brother  properly ! 

"  Tell  me  yourself  what  you  'd  like  for  your 
dinner !  ' '  she  entreated  him. 

He  laughed  at  her  genially. 

' '  Pooh !  Tuts !  Did  you  ever  in  your  life  see 
me  eat  a  better  dinner  than  I  've  been  taking  lately  ? 
You  might  give  one  a  suet  pudding  oftener,  but 
that  's  all  I  have  to  complain  of. ' ' 

Heriot  had  always  been  addicted  to  suet  pud- 
ding, but  for  a  number  of  years  past  his  doctor's 
opinion  had  been  adverse  to  this  form  of  diet  for 
a  gentleman  of  gouty  habit. 
99 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  But  what  about  your  gout,  Heriot?  "  she  asked. 

"Gout?  Fiddle-de-dee!  Who  's  got  gout?  Not 
I,  for  one." 

He  had  been  glancing  complacently  at  his  im- 
proved reflection  in  the  mirror.  Abruptly  he 
stepped  up  close  to  the  glass  and  examined  his 
visage  with  unconcealed  excitement. 

"  Good  God!  "  he  murmured. 

Then,  with  much  the  expression  Crusoe  must 
have  worn  when  he  spied  the  footprint,  he  turned 
to  his  sister,  and,  grasping  a  lock  of  hair  upon 
his  brow,  bent  his  head  towards  her,  and  de- 
manded — 

"  What  color  's  that?" 

"  Dear  me,"  she  said,  "  it  looks  quite  brown.  I 
did  n  't  know  you  had  any  brown  hair  left. ' ' 

He  raised  his  head  and  looked  at  her  in  solemn 
silence  till  she  began  to  feel  dreadfully  confused. 
Then  he  "bent  again. 

"  Do  you  notice  anything  else?  " 

"  N  —  no;  unless  your  hair  's  got  thicker.  But 
that  's  not  likely  at  your  time  of  life." 

"It  is  not  likely,"  said  he.  "It  is  most  im- 
probable —  in  fact,  it  is  practically  impossible ;  but 
it  is  thicker. ' ' 

He  rubbed  his  chin  and  gazed  at  her  with  the 
100 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

queerest  look.  Mary  had  known  him  since  he  trun- 
dled a  hoop,  but  she  never  remembered  him  go  on 
like  this  before.  As  for  Heriot,  he  seemed  to  be 
debating  whether  he  should  spring  something  still 
more  surprising  on  her  or  not.  But  she  looked  so 
uncomfortable  already,  so  totally  without  the  least 
clue  to  his  mysterious  words,  so  unconscious  of 
anything  stranger  about  him  than  his  shirt-sleeves 
and  loss  of  weight,  that  he  only  uttered  something 
between  a  gasp  and  a  sigh,  and,  turning  away  from 
her,  took  up  his  brushes  to  smooth  his  augmented 
hairs. 

"  I  '11  be  down  to  breakfast  in  a  jiffy,"  he  said. 

Miss  Walkingshaw  thought  that  an  odd  kind  of 
phrase  for  Heriot  to  be  using. 


101 


CHAPTER  IV 

ANDREW  no  longer  walked  to  the  office  with  his 
father  in  the  mornings.  Not  that  he  had  anything 
to  do  with  the  altered  custom:  in  fact,  he  was 
always  most  careful  to  assure  his  friends  that  he 
had  more  than  once  waited  as  long  as  five  minutes 
to  give  his  father  the  opportunity  of  having  his 
company  —  if  he  was  wishing  it.  But  Mr.  Walk- 
ingshaw  was  never  less  than  ten  minutes  late  now- 
adays. 

On  this  particular  morning  he  set  forth  a  full 
half-hour  after  his  son.  He  had  been  very  absent- 
minded  after  his  talk  with  his  sister, —  not  even 
Mrs.  Dunbar  could  keep  his  attention  for  more  than 
a  moment, —  and  he  had  sat  for  the  best  part  of 
twenty  minutes  thoughtfully  putting  on  his  boots. 
One  or  two  acquaintances  who  saw  him  on  the 
way  from  his  house  to  his  office  often  recalled  his 
demeanor  that  morning.  Now  he  would  loiter 
along  with  bent  shoulders,  his  hands  behind  his 
back,  trailing  his  umbrella  and  brooding  as  though 
he  contemplated  bankruptcy.  Then  suddenly  his 
102 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

pace  would  quicken,  the  umbrella  whirled  round 
and  round  like  a  Catherine  wheel,  and  with  his 
head  held  jauntily  and  the  merriest  smile  he  would 
swagger  along  like  a  young  blood  of  twenty-six 
who  had  just  been  accepted  by  an  heiress.  And 
then  abruptly  he  would  lapse  into  his  mournful 
gait. 

"  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Andrew,"  said  he,  as  soon  as 
he  was  seated  in  his  private  room. 

The  junior  partner  entered  with  a  melancholy 
visage  and  a  reproachful  eye. 

"  Oh,  you  Ve  come  at  last,"  he  remarked,  too 
quietly  to  be  rude,  too  pointedly  to  be  pleasant. 

But  his  father  seemed  not  to  have  heard. 

"  Sit  down,  sit  down,"  he  said;  and  then  in  an 
earnest  manner  and  with  the  gravest  face  began, 
"  I  've  something  to  tell  you,  Andrew,  that  I  think 
you  ought  to  know." 

Andrew 's  visage  relaxed.  This  gravity  promised 
better  than  anything  his  father's  behavior  had  led 
him  to  expect  of  late. 

"  Something  most  extraordinary  has  happened. 
You  've  noticed  a  little  kind  of  difference  in  me  of 
late,  possibly?  " 

"  I  have,"  said  Andrew,  with  an  intonation  that 
made  his  acquiescence  particularly  thorough. 
103 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  A  sort  of  cheerfulness  and  healthiness,  and 
so  on?  " 

' '  And  so  on, ' '  assented  Andrew. 

"  Well,  I  've  accounted  for  it  at  last !  " 

"  Oh?  "  said  Andrew. 

This  did  not  strike  him  as  quite  so  interesting. 
He  thought  of  the  papers  he  had  left,  and  glanced 
at  his  watch. 

"  You  mind  my  telling  you  about  Cyrus's  theory 
of  the  cells  of  the  body  —  that  all  they  needed  was 
the  proper  kind  of  stimulation,  and  they  'd  be  as 
good  as  new?  Well,  he  went  one  better  than  that 
sometimes.  I  never  told  you  what  his  idea  was  — 
it  sounded  kind  of  daf t-like  when  you  did  n  't  hear 
him  laying  it  down  himself  —  but  I  '11  tell  you 
now. ' ' 

His  voice  sank  impressively,  and  his  junior  part- 
ner grew  vaguely  uneasy.  This  was  a  most  un- 
suitable place  and  hour  to  be  discussing  quack 
medical  theories.  He  did  n 't  approve  of  it  at  all. 

"  His  idea  was  that  every  cell  of  the  body  — 
mine  and  yours,  Andrew,"- -  (Andrew  grew  ex- 
ceedingly uncomfortable:  this  verged  on  the  inde- 
cent),— "  every  single  cell  of  them  is  just  a  kind 
of  wee  vessel  in  which  chemical  and  electrical 
104 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

changes  are  going  on.  While  they  keep  brisk  we 
keep  young,  and  when  they  get  off  the  boil,  so  to 
speak,  we  grow  old.  Well  now,  what  's  to  hinder 
one  stirring  them  up  to  boil  faster  and  faster,  in- 
stead of  slower  and  slower?  And  if  they  once  did 
that,  of  course  you  'd  begin  to  grow  young  instead 
of  going  on  getting  old.  Andrew,  it  's  happened 
to  me." 

Andrew  started. 

"What  has?  " 

' '  I  'm  growing  young  again !  ' ' 

His  junior  partner  looked  at  him  for  half  a  min- 
ute in  dead  silence.  Then  he  decided  that  this 
statement  had  better  be  answered  humorously. 

' '  Is  this  story  a  sample  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  You  don't  believe  me?  " 

Andrew 's  cheeks  bulged  in  a  faint  smile. 

"  Am  I  expected  to?  " 

"  Look  at  my  waistcoat  —  when  did  you  ever 
see  it  as  loose  as  that,  and  me  healthier  than  I  've 
been  for  years,  and  eating  more?  Look  at  my 
face  —  where  are  the  wrinkles  gone  ?  Look  at  my 
head  —  how  long  is  it  since  you  've  seen  a  patch  of 
brown  hair  there?  " 

To  complete  this  overwhelming  series  of  proofs, 
105 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

he  leapt  up,  and  with  an  agile  jump  on  one  foot 
whirled  the  other  leg  clean  over  the  back  of  his 
chair. 

"  It  's  twenty  years  and  more  since  I  last  did 
that!  " 

Andrew  was  fairly  startled  out  of  his  skepticism 
now.  He  had  the  eyes  of  a  goldfish,  and  his  upper 
lip  and  swelling  cheeks  twitched  nervously. 

"  What  an  awful  thing  to  happen!  "  he  mur- 
mured. 

"  It  has  happened,  though,"  said  his  father. 

' '  But  surely  —  oh,  it  must  just  be  temporary. 
You  don't  think  it  will  last,  do  you?  " 

"  I  think  nothing,"  replied  Mr.  Walkingshaw, 
with  conviction.  "  I  have  no  settled  opinions  left. 
I  am  a  mass  of  cells  in  active  eruption. ' ' 

He  began  to  chuckle. 

"  I  'm  like  a  dashed  volcano,  Andrew!  " 

His  son  looked  at  him  piteously.  To  suffer  this 
sea  change  was  bad  enough,  but  to  laugh  about  it 
was  diabolical.  Mr.  Walkingshaw  could  not  but 
sober  down  under  such  an  eye.  He  gathered  his 
countenance  into  an  aspect  as  portentously  solemn 
as  his  dwindled  wrinkles  could  achieve.  His  son 
grieved  afresh  to  see  how  their  passing  diminished 
the  once  overpowering  respectability  of  his  parent. 
106 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  It  's  an  awful  predicament,"  said  Mr.  Walk- 
ingshaw,  shaking  his  bronzing  head. 

"Awful  —  just  awful!  What  will  people 
say?  " 

"  That  's  just  what  I  've  been  wondering.  How 
am  I  going  to  break  it  to  them  ?  ' ' 

' '  You  're  not  going  to  tell  people !  ' ' 

' (  But  they  '11  notice  for  themselves. ' ' 

Andrew  gazed  at  him  gloomily. 

"  It  may  pass  off," — his  face  cleared  a  little, — 
' '  in  fact,  it  's  certain  to. ' ' 

' '  It  does  n  't  feel  much  like  it  at  present :  I  'm 
fairly  bursting  with  spirits,"  smiled  Mr.  Walking- 
shaw,  and  then  recollected  himself  and  grew  grave 
again.  "  What  's  to  be  done  supposing  people  do 
notice?  "  he  asked. 

"  We  '11  just  have  to  stretch  a  point,"  said  An- 
drew somberly,  "  and  give  some  other  explana- 
tion." 

"  We  might  give  some  decent,  respectable  doctor 
the  credit  for  it, ' '  his  father  suggested. 

"  They  'd  all  be  afraid  to  take  it,  if  it  went  on 
any  further.  Imagine  a  respectable  doctor  admit- 
ting he  'd  made  a  man  grow  younger !  I  dare  say 
they  might  be  proud  of  such  a  performance  in  Lon- 
don, but  they  Ve  more  decency  here!  " 
107 


THE  PEODIGAL  FATHER 

It  seemed  characteristic  of  Mr.  Walkingshaw  's 
calamity  that  he  should  bounce  up  like  a  tennis  ball 
after  each  well-meant  effort  to  depress  him. 

"  In  that  case,"  said  he  cheerfully,  "  we  11  just 
have  to  say  I  am  trying  to  make  myself  more  of  a 
companion  for  you." 

Andrew  started  violently. 

' '  We  11  say  no  such  thing !  Do  you  suppose 
7  'm  going  to  have  my  name  mixed  up  with  it  ?  " 

His  father  remained  serene. 

"  Well  then,  what  do  you  suggest?  " 

Andrew's  cheeks  drooped,  carrying  the  corners 
of  his  mouth  down  with  them. 

* '  There  *s  no  good  in  suggesting.  You  can  trust 
your  friends  to  do  that  for  you.  Pretty  stories 
they  11  be  circulating!  " 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  regarded  him  with  dignity, 
mingled  with  a  trace  of  good-natured  contempt  for 
such  a  lack  of  spirit. 

"  My  dear  Andrew,"  said  he,  "  you  need  not  be 
under  the  slightest  apprehension.  Whatever  my 
external  appearance  may  become  —  and  I  trust  it 
will  remain  not  altogether  unpleasing  —  I  shall  see 
to  it  that  my  conduct  rebuts  any  breath  of  scandal. 
I  shall  be,  if  possible,  more  circumspect,  more 
scrupulously  observant  of  the  rules  which  should 
108 


regulate  the  behavior  of  a  man  in  my  position,  more 
discreet  both  in  speech  and  conduct.  The  tongues 
of  the  libelous  will  be  effectually  silenced  then." 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  accompanied  these  excellent 
sentiments  by  gently  swinging  himself  to  and  fro 
in  his  revolving  chair  and  rolling  a  scrap  of 
blotting-paper  into  a  pellet,  which,  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  his  speech,  he  absent-mindedly  discharged 
at  the  office  clock.  His  son  seemed  as  impressed 
by  these  movements  as  by  his  words. 

"  You  '11  find  it  easier,"  he  began  bitterly,  "  to 
set  people  talking  than  to — " 

"  When  you  come  to  think  of  it,  the  situation  is 
not  without  decided  advantages,"  his  father  inter- 
rupted, springing  up  and  pacing  the  room  with  an 
animated  air.  "  Just  think  of  the  renewed  oppor- 
tunities for  doing  all  kinds  of  useful  and  beneficial 
things!  I  might  take  a  more  prominent  part  in 
public  life :  I  might  even  go  in  for  politics.  I  cer- 
tainly shall  take  a  bit  of  salmon-fishing.  The  study 
of  some  of  our  classical  authors  suggests  itself  as  a 
relaxation  for  my  leisure  moments.  The  subjects 
of  aeroplanes  and  national  defense  are  worthy  of 
consideration,  too.  I  should  like  to  visit  several 
of  the  continental  countries  —  our  own  colonies  are 
even  more  attractive;  there  wouldn't  be  the  same 
109 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

difficulties  about  the  language.  Or,  by  Jingo,  An- 
drew, I  might  learn  French  and  Italian !  Yes,  the 
position  is  not  without  its  compensations." 

He  stopped  beside  his  son  and  laid  his  hand  upon 
his  shoulder. 

"  I  propose  to  widen  greatly  the  scope  of  my 
energies,  without  in  the  least  forfeiting  the  respect 
of  my  fellow-citizens.  That  is  my  ideal,  Andrew. 
Ah,  my  boy,  you  and  I  will  have  some  great  times 
together!  By  that  I  mean,  of  course,  some  bene- 
ficial and  profitable  times." 

He  took  a  sudden  step  forward  and  kicked  the 
wastepaper-basket  into  the  fireplace. 

' '  I  might  even  take  up  football  some  day,  if  this 
goes  on,"  he  smiled,  and  then  abruptly  recovered 
his  solemnity. 

' '  Beneficial  and  profitable, ' '  he  repeated  gravely. 
"  Those  are  to  be  our  watchwords.  Will  you  have 
a  weed?  " 

The  junior  partner  started  out  of  the  reverie  into 
which  he  had  fallen. 

"  Are  you  going  to  start  smoking  heref  "  he 
cried. 

' '  Why  the  deuce  should  n  't  I  ?  It  's  my  own 
office.  These  old-fashioned  ideas  of  yours  about 
not  smoking  on  business  premises  are  getting  out 
110 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

of  date.    Besides,  it  keeps  the  flies  away.    And 
now  I  must  get  on  to  my  correspondence." 

With  a  cigar  in  the  corner  of  his  mouth  and 
humming  something  resembling  an  air,  the  senior 
partner  dashed  into  his  day's  work  with  the  ardor 
of  an  egg-collector. 


Ill 


CHAPTER  V 

IN  the  meantime,  the  two  least  satisfactory  mem- 
bers of  the  family  were  sadly  enduring  the  conse- 
quences of  their  foolishness.  To  Frank  and  Jean 
the  world  seemed  a  very  gray  place  at  present ;  and 
even  the  daily  increasing  juvenility  of  their  parent 
failed  to  enliven  them.  They  were  too  engrossed  in 
their  own  unhappiness  to  take  much  notice  of  it; 
and  what  they  saw  merely  distressed  them,  for  so 
far  his  beneficent  projects  had  not  included  them. 
Frank  moped  about  the  house,  consorted  occasion- 
ally with  an  acquaintance,  now  and  then  went  away 
for  a  day's  golf,  and  at  frequent  intervals  confided 
to  Jean  his  disgust  with  the  arrangements  of  the 
universe.  Ellen  Berstoun  was  to  have  paid  them 
another  visit,  but  for  some  reason  she  put  it  off; 
and  at  this  decision  he  was  plunged  for  forty-eight 
consecutive  hours  into  a  frenzy,  alternately  of  re- 
lief and  despair,  which  left  him  at  last  more  lacka- 
daisical than  ever.  A  few  days  after  his  father's 
momentous  interview  with  Andrew,  he  was  roused 
to  fresh  anguish  by  the  junior  partner's  departure 
112 


to  spend  a  week-end  at  Berstoun  Castle,  and  his 
state  of  mind  now  became  so  unbearable  that  he 
abruptly  announced  to  his  sister  — 

"  I  can't  stick  this  any  longer!  I  'm  going  up 
to  town." 

"  What  for?  "  she  asked. 

"  For  a  bust,"  he  answered  desperately.  "  I  'm 
going  to  try  to  —  to  —  to  forget. ' ' 

And  the  poor  youth  strode  hurriedly  out  of  the 
room  to  examine  the  state  of  his  silk  hat  and  his 
finances. 

Jean  devoutly  wished  she  too  could  fly  to  Lon- 
don !  Like  a  dutiful  girl,  she  had  returned,  at  her 
father's  peremptory  bidding,  two  unopened  letters 
received  from  that  city.  Frank  knew  his  address 
and  forwarded  them  for  her.  Once  or  twice  after 
that  he  himself  received  a  letter  in  a  hand  suspi- 
ciously resembling  the  writing  on  the  unbroken  en- 
velopes, and  it  certainly  was  a  fact  that  on  each  of 
these  occasions  the  erring  pair  were  closeted  for 
long  together,  and  that  Jean's  spirits  rose  a  little 
for  a  few  hours  afterwards.  But  they  soon  sank 
again. 

After  Frank  had  announced  his  desperate  reso- 
lution she  sat  alone  for  some  time  in  the  drawing- 
room.  Everybody  else  was  out,  and  the  house 
s  113 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

seemed  prodigiously  silent  and  vast.  At  last  she 
heard  a  little  noise,  which  presently  took  the  form 
of  footsteps  bounding  upstairs,  accompanied  by  a 
cheerful  tuneless  whistling.  The  door  was  flung 
open,  and  her  father  entered. 

It  was  only  at  that  moment  that  Jean  realized 
he  was  a  curiously  altered  man.  He  was  dressed 
in  brown  tweeds  and  a  light  waistcoat ;  his  face  was 
flushed,  and  a  smile  danced  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  've  been  for  a  bicycle  ride,"  he  announced. 

She  could  hardly  believe  her  ears. 

"You  —  on  a  bicycle?"  she  gasped;  for  Mr. 
Walkingshaw  had  been  born  long  before  bicycles. 

"  Yes;  I  Ve  had  a  couple  of  lessons  —  only  two, 
and  I  went  for  a  six-mile  ride  all  alone  to-day!  " 

' '  Then  were  n  't  you  at  the  office  ?  ' ' 

"  In  the  morning;  but  one  gets  no  exercise  in 
that  beastly  office.  I  need  a  lot  nowadays. ' ' 

He  threw  himself  into  a  chair  and  a  smile  broke 
over  his  face,  in  which,  to  her  further  bewilder- 
ment, she  recognized  an  unmistakable  flavor  of 
roguishness. 

"  Thinking  of  him?  "  he  inquired. 

Poor  Jean  nearly  jumped  out  of  her  chair. 

"Of  —  of  whom?  "  she  gasped. 

"  The  artist  fellow,  what  's  his  name  —  Vernon. ' ' 
114 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

' '  Father !  ' '  she  said  in  a  low,  pained  voice. 

"Eh?    What 's  the  matter?  " 

She  looked  at  him  between  grief  and  amazement. 

"  You  said  that  his  name  was  never  to  be  men- 
tioned. Do  you  mean  to  —  why  do  you  —  what  do 
you  mean,  father?  " 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  was  finding  it  harder  every 
day  to  retain  his  old  attitudes  in  all  their  dignity. 
He  was  altering  at  an  astonishing  pace.  How 
many  years  younger  he  had  become  already  he 
could  not  compute.  He  had  tried  once  or  twice  to 
calculate  about  where  he  stood  but  the  surprising 
thing  was  that  he  found  he  cared  less  and  less  what 
was  happening,  and  how  fast  it  happened.  He  en- 
joyed himself  amazingly  so  long  as  he  did  not 
worry ;  and  the  obvious  moral  was  —  don 't  worry. 
At  the  same  time,  he  had  no  intention  whatsoever 
of  forfeiting  the  respect  of  his  fellow-citizens,  still 
less  of  his  family.  It  was  true  this  proviso  oc- 
curred to  him  more  often  after  than  before  he  had 
surprised  them  by  some  trifling  deviation;  still, 
when  it  did  occur,  it  occurred  forcibly.  On  this 
present  occasion  he  suddenly  became  preternatu- 
rally  solemn,  coughed  with  a  little  dry,  respectable 
sound,  and  replied  severely  — 

"  I  meant  that  it  must  never  be  mentioned  by 
115 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

you,  but  —  ahem  —  it  is  —  ah  —  different  with 
your  father.  I  still  leave  myself  at  liberty  to  men- 
tion him  with  reprobation." 

Jean  jumped  up  with  a  sparkling  eye. 

"  In  that  case  I  '11  leave  you.  I  've  obeyed  you 
so  far,  but  I  certainly  shan't  obey  you  if  you  tell 
me  to  sit  and  listen  to  anything  against  him !  ' ' 

And  she  started  for  the  door. 

* '  My  dear  girl !  ' '  cried  Mr.  Walkingshaw. 

He  jumped  up  too,  caught  her  by  the  hand,  and 
led  her  to  the  sofa. 

* '  Now,  now, ' '  he  said  kindly ;  "  sit  down  and  tell 
me  all  about  it. ' ' 

She  looked  at  him  in  fresh  amazement. 

"All  about  what?  " 

He  found  it  a  little  difficult  to  explain  precisely 
what  he  meant.  He  only  knew  that  he  felt  an  un- 
wonted expansion  of  his  heart  towards  this  really 
charming  little  daughter. 

"  All  about  the  weather  and  crops,"  he  sug- 
gested playfully. 

Jean  began  to  tremble  a  little. 

"I  —  I  don't  understand  you  at  all,"  said  she. 

He  smiled  pleasantly. 

* '  Am  I  such  a  very  mysterious  old  fellow  ?  ' ' 

At  this  odd  and  novel  mixture  of  kindness  and 


queerness  she  felt  her  words  choking  her,  as  much 
with  fear  as  anything. 

"  We  —  we  never  have  understood  each  other," 
she  found  herself  saying. 

He  looked  startled. 

"  What?  You  don't  mean  to  say  you —  But 
I  'm  your  father." 

"  I  suppose  that  's  the  reason." 

' '  I  have  always  tried  to  do  my  duty. ' ' 

' '  The  trouble  is,  you  succeeded. ' ' 

"  What!  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Do  you  actually 
mean  to  say  you  —  ah  —  didn't  appreciate  my 
duty?  " 

She  was  sitting  by  his  side  on  the  sofa,  her  eyes 
downcast  and  her  lips  obstinately  set.  Never  be- 
fore in  her  life  had  she  stood  up  to  him  like  this, 
but  now  that  she  had  begun  she  was  discovering  to 
her  surprise  that  she  had  more  of  her  father 's  tem- 
per than  she  had  dreamt  of. 

' '  No, ' '  she  said.     ' '  I  did  n  't  sometimes. ' ' 

Instead  of  getting  angry,  Mr.  Walkingshaw 
seemed  merely  astonished  and  interested. 

' '  Perhaps  it  was  the  way  I  did  it, ' '  he  suggested. 

She  looked  up  quickly. 

' '  Yes, ' '  she  answered. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  I  have  lately  discovered  that 
117 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

I  shall  never  be  too  old  to  learn.  Just  tell  me  how 
you  'd  like  to  be  treated,  and  I  '11  try  to  manage 
it.  I  am  very  fond  of  you,  Jean. ' ' 

Her  mouth  lost  its  obstinacy ;  her  eyes  and  voice 
grew  kind. 

' '  Father  dear,  if  only  you  'd  show  it !  If 
only—" 

He  interrupted  her  by  a  resounding  kiss. 

' '  More  that  kind  of  way  ?  "  he  smiled. 

For  answer  she  threw  her  arms  round  him  and 
gave  him  what  he  immediately  decided  to  be  the 
pleasantest  hugging  he  had  ever  enjoyed.  This 
was  a  method  of  doing  his  duty  that  must  cer- 
tainly be  repeated;  he  had  no  doubts  about  that. 
It  led  to  such  surprising  results,  too.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  found  himself  embarked  upon  the  most 
charmingly  confidential  conversation. 

* '  It  was  a  little  rough  on  you, ' '  he  confessed. 

"  You  mean —  ?  "  she  hesitated. 

' '  Well,  well,  perhaps  we  'd  better  not  allude  to  it 
again, ' '  he  answered  kindly. 

But  apparently  she  had  no  intention  at  all  of 
avoiding  the  subject. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said  eagerly.  "  I  'd  like  to  talk 
about  it  with  you  now. ' ' 

It  did  not  seem  to  occur  to  the  W.S.  that  he 
118 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

might  end  by  committing  himself  to  some  expres- 
sion of  sympathy  he  would  repent  of  later. 

"  Capital,'*  he  answered  genially.  "  You  still 
like  the  fellow,  then?  " 

"  Like  him !  "  she  exclaimed.     "  Oh,  father,  I  - 
I  still  love  him. ' ' 

"  I  wish  he  'd  brush  his  hair  a  little  better  and 
wear  a  respectable  tie;  still,  he  undoubtedly  has 
some  original  ideas." 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  found  himself  musing  on  the 
artist's  outrageous  opinions  with  a  new  catholicity. 
They  had  staggered  him  at  the  moment :  they  began 
to  interest  him  now. 

' '  It  's  a  pity  he  can 't  make  a  little  more  money, ' ' 
he  added. 

"  But  I  don't  need  a  large  income  to  be  happy, 
father." 

"  Eh?  "  said  Mr.  Walkingshaw. 

This  was  going  rather  too  fast;  yet  when  h« 
looked  into  her  shining  eyes,  he  found  it  really  very 
difficult  to  keep  severe. 

"  Money  is  a  very  important  thing,  my  dear," 
he  replied. 

"  It  's  not  nearly  so  important  as  love !     Surely, 
father,  it  's  far,  far  better  that  two  people  should 
be  very,  very  fond  of  each  other  than  have  plenty 
119 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

of  money!     You  do  agree  with  that,  don't  you?  " 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  there  came  to  the  lit- 
tle advocate-f or-love 's  assistance  a  recollection  of 
the  sympathetic  widow.  In  his  mind's  eye  Mir. 
Walkingshaw  suddenly  saw  a  vision  of  her  black 
eyes  vivaciously  beaming,  and  for  some  reason  this 
enabled  him  to  regard  Jean's  point  of  view  in  a 
wholly  new  and  original  light. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  'm  not  sure  that  there  is  n't 
something  in  what  you  say.  I  do  believe  you  're 
right,  my  dear  —  in  fact,  I  'm  positive  you  're 
right.  The  love  for  a  fine  woman  —  well,  it  's  a 
first-rate  sensation  —  most  refreshing. ' ' 

' '  For  a  woman  ?  ' '  asked  Jean,  a  little  surprised. 
"  But  we  were  talking  about  a  man." 

There  was  no  mirror  available,  but  Mr.  Walk- 
ingshaw had  a  strong  suspicion  that  he  must  be 
blushing. 

' '  For  a  man  —  of  course, ' '  he  said  hastily.  ' '  I 
meant  for  a  man.  But  in  a  general  way  I  think 
I  may  say  that  love  's  the  thing  for  everybody ! 
It  's  the  thing  for  you  and  me  anyhow,  eh,  Jean  ?  ' ' 

Jean  felt  as  though  she  had  scrubbed  a  lump  of 

crystal  and  found  it  to  be  a  diamond.     How  was 

it  she  had  never  before  discovered  these  depths  of 

affection  and  geniality  below  his  awe-inspiring  ex- 

120 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

terior?     She    had    not    scrubbed    hard    enough! 

' '  Yes,  indeed !  ' '  said  she.  ' '  Oh,  I  do  under- 
stand you  now.  Father,  I  'm  so  happy !  And  you 
won't  think  too  hardly  of  Mr.  Vernon,  will  you?  " 

"  H'm,"  smiled  her  father.  "  That  's  a  matter 
we  might  well  take  to  avizandum,  I  think. ' ' 

For  a  daughter  of  a  Writer  to  the  Signet,  Jean 
was  woefully  ignorant.  She  did  not  know  what 
avizandum  meant  in  the  least.  But  she  felt  sure  it 
was  the  name  of  one  of  the  roads  to  happiness ;  and 
she  hugged  him  again. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  this  embrace  that  Mrs. 
Donaldson  entered.  She  had  always  esteemed  the 
author  of  her  own  existence  and  her  family 's  pros- 
perity, but  she  had  never  hugged  him ;  nor  had  he 
shown  any  evidence  of  desiring  such  an  operation. 

"  Good  gracious,  Jean!  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  We  are  arranging  a  bike  ride,"  beamed  her 
father. 

To  complete  the  confusion  of  his  more  credit- 
able daughter,  this  improbable  announcement  was 
accompanied  by  an  unabashed  wink,  directed  at  his 
less  creditable  child  apparently  for  the  superfluous 
purpose  of  assuring  her  he  jested. 

That  evening  Mr.  Walkingshaw  began  to  be  dis- 
cussed by  his  fellow-citizens  in  earnest. 
121 


CHAPTER  VI 

"  You  'RE  not  drinking,  Andrew,"  said  Mr. 
Walkingshaw.  "  Go  on,  fill  up  your  glass.  Man, 
do  you  call  that  filling  a  glass?  Here  's  the  way." 

Leaning  across  the  table,  he  poured  in  the  port 
till  it  stood  above  the  rim,  with  the  steady  hand  of 
a  man  of  forty.  He  was  hardly  as  young  as  that 
yet,  but  he  was  amazingly  rejuvenated.  It  could 
not  possibly  last,  Andrew  said  to  himself;  still,  he 
felt  dreadfully  uncomfortable. 

"  You  seem  very  anxious  I  should  drink,"  he 
said  gloomily,  looking  askance  at  his  brimming 
glass. 

"  You  're  so  dull,  my  boy,"  his  father  answered 
genially.  "  There  's  no  life  in  you  at  all.  You 
for  a  lover!  You  ought  to  have  come  back  look- 
ing happy.  One  would  think  she  'd  broken  it  off." 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  same  day.  Andrew 
had  returned  from  his  visit  to  the  Berstouns  shortly 
after  Mrs.  Donaldson  departed,  and  as  Frank  was 
dining  out,  he  and  his  father  sat  alone  together 
over  their  wine. 

122 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  I  Ve  no  reason  to  feel  particularly  happy,"  he 
said. 

"Eh?"  cried  his  father.  "Nothing  gone 
wrong,  is  there?  " 

"  I  don't  understand  these  women." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Walkingshaw,  with  jovial  can- 
dor, ' '  you  'd  be  a  bit  of  a  stick  with  the  sex,  I  can 
well  imagine.  You  haven't  the  cut  of  a  ladies' 
man :  but  it  's  all  a  matter  of  practice,  my  boy ;  just 
a  matter  of  learning  experience  as  you  go  along. 
What  did  she  say  to  you  ?  ' ' 

Andrew  was  divided  in  mind.  This  tone  exas- 
perated him  beyond  measure.  He  felt  inclined  to 
leave  the  room.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  he  judged 
himself  ill-used  by  his  betrothed,  and  when  he  had 
any  ground  of  grievance,  he  had  the  pleasant  habit 
of  venting  his  complaints  as  long  as  his  audience 
would  listen  to  him.  To-night  the  habit  proved 
even  stronger  than  his  distaste  for  his  high-spirited 
parent. 

"  She  was  queer,"  said  he. 

"  They  're  all  that,"  replied  Mr.  Walkingshaw 
knowingly.  ' '  The  great  thing  is  not  to  mind  what 
they  say.  It  's  what  they  do  that  counts :  and 
she  'd  be  affectionate,  I  suppose,  eh  ?  " 

"  I  've  never  gone  in  for  much  of  your  spooning 
123 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

and  kissing  and  that  sort  of  thing, ' '  began  Andrew. 

"  The  more  fool  you!  "  interrupted  his  parent. 
"  What  do  you  think  a  girl  gets  engaged  for  if  it 
isn't  to  be  cuddled?  " 

He  surprised  himself  by  his  own  acumen.  The 
late  Mrs.  W.  had  not  been  in  the  least  that  sort  of 
lady,  and  he  had  never  been  engaged  to  anybody 
else ;  yet  here  he  was  laying  down  the  law  with  the 
serenest  confidence.  Some  divine  instinct  must  be 
inspiring  him.  His  son  seemed  less  favorably  im- 
pressed with  his  sagacity. 

' '  Ellen  's  not  that  sort  of  girl, ' '  said  he. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  they  're  all  that  sort.  At 
least,  that  's  my  view  of  the  matter.  Well,  what  's 
gone  wrong  ?  ' ' 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Andrew  sourly.  "  I  can't 
make  her  out.  She  's  different  somehow.  It  was 
almost  as  though  she  was  n  't  so  fond  of  me. ' ' 

"  Are  you  sure  you  've  done  nothing  to  annoy 
her  ?  They  're  very  touchy,  you  know. ' ' 

' '  I  have  n 't  done  a  thing  to  annoy  her.  I  can 
swear  to  that." 

11  Then,"  said  Mr.  Walkingshaw,  with  inspired 
conviction,  ' '  there  's  some  other  fellow  cutting  you 
out." 

124 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Andrew  started. 

"  Who?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  all  her  neighbors.  It  's  no- 
body she  's  met  here,  I  suppose. ' ' 

"  She  never  saw  a  man  when  she  was  here  but 
Frank  and  me." 

' '  Then  it  's  some  one  in  Perthshire, ' '  pronounced 
Mr.  Walkingshaw,  emphatically  but  cheerfully. 

Andrew  frowned  at  his  still  brimming  glass.  He 
trusted  that  he  did  not  overvalue  himself;  at  the 
same  time,  the  idea  of  another  being  preferred  by  a 
girl  who  had  once  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  being 
engaged  to  Andrew  Walkingshaw  struck  him  as 
far-fetched. 

1 '  I  don 't  think  it  's  another  man, ' '  he  said. 

"  It  's  my  opinion  it  is,  Andrew;  and  I  'm  not 
wanting  to  lose  so  nice  a  daughter-in-law,  so  you  've 
got  to  see  that  she  doesn't  turn  round  altogether. 
You  've  got  to  go  in  and  win;  make  sure  of  her, 
my  boy!  " 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  grew  more  and  more  animated 
and  his  son  more  and  more  distressed.  He  was 
behaving  so  unlike  the  senior  partner  in  Walking- 
shaw &  Gilliflower. 

"  What  are  you  wanting  me  to  do?  " 
125 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Behave  less  like  a  damned  umbrella,"  pro- 
nounced Mr.  Walkingshaw,  with  a  startling  lapse 
into  epigram. 

Andrew  stared. 

"  Oh?  "  said  he. 

' '  Be  lively,  and  —  er  —  amorous,  and  —  ah  — 
sparkling;  that  's  the  sort  of  thing.  Go  in  for  a 
few  new  ties  and  waistcoats.  Socks,  too,  are  things 
that  the  young  men  display  considerable  enterprise 
in.  I  was  tempted  myself  this  afternoon  by  a  shop 
window  full  of  really  remarkably  chaste  hosiery  — 
pale  green  with  stripes !  you  'd  look  first  class  in 
them.  I  came  to  the  conclusion  at  last  that  perhaps 
I  was  hardly  young  enough  for  them  yet ;  but  I  in- 
vested in  half  a  dozen  ties  of  quite  a  tasty  design. ' ' 

"  You  bought  half  a  dozen  ties!  "  exclaimed  An- 
drew. 

' '  I  did ;  and  you  're  welcome  to  any  of  them  you 
like.  Or  will  you  come  with  me  and  we  '11  choose 
something?  " 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  his  son  sardonically; 
' '  but  on  the  whole  I  'd  sooner  trust  to  nature. ' ' 

' '  In  that  case,  Heaven  help  you,  my  poor  boy ! 
You  have  your  good  points,  but  beauty  's  not 
among  them.  Imagine  you  as  a  statue,  Andrew! 
Eh?" 

126 


The  worthy  gentleman  laughed  genially,  but  the 
unhappy  lover  did  not  join  in  his  mirth. 

"  I  am  glad  I  amuse  you,"  he  said,  and  rose  to 
leave  the  table. 

"  Sit  down,  sit  down,  man,"  his  father  com- 
manded; "  I  haven't  half  finished  with  you  yet. 
Have  you  read  any  poetry  to  her  ?  ' ' 

"  I  have  not." 

' '  Well,  read  some ;  try  a  bit  of  —  er  —  I  'm  not 
so  well  up  in  the  poets  as  I  hope  to  be  soon,  but 
I  fancy  Byron  has  written  some  very  stimulating 
verses ;  or  why  go  over  the  border  for  them  —  why 
not  try  her  with  Burns  ?  "What  's  finer  than  — 

"  '  Had  we  never  loved  sae  kindly, 
Had  we  —  um  —  um  —  sae  blindly, 
Never  —  something  —  um  —  um  —  parted, 
We  should  —  something  about  being  broken-hearted  ?  " 

"  It  's  very  sentimental,  I  Ve  no  doubt,"  an- 
swered the  junior  partner,  in  a  tone  which  implied 
that  he  was  uttering  the  last  word  in  caustic 
criticism. 

But  his  father  merely  grew  the  more  enthusi- 
astic. 

"  And  what  else  have  you  got  to  be  but  senti- 
mental? My  dear  boy,  my  eyes  have  been  opened 
this  very  afternoon.  I  Ve  never  been  sentimental 
127 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

enough  with  my  children ;  and  what  's  the  conse- 
quence? Here  's  you  letting  a  pretty  girl  slip 
through  your  fingers  because  you  don't  let  yourself 
loose  on  her!  Now  what  you  ought  to  say  to  her 
is  something  like  this :  *  My  own  darling  —  or 
sweetheart  —  or  even  duckie,' — use  some  popular 
symbol,  as  it  were,  of  affection, — '  I  am  so  passion- 
ately ' —  or  fervently,  if  you  like  —  let  us  say,  '  so 
fervently  in  love  with  you  that  I  can 't  hold  out  ' — 
or  perhaps  you  might  find  a  better  word  than  that ; 
you  want  to  inflame  the  lassie  without  startling 
her.  '  I  can't  endure  ' —  that  's  a  better  word  — '  I 
can't  endure  for  another  month.  Marry  me  four 
weeks  from  to-day!  '  And  there  you  have  the 
whole  thing  done. ' ' 

Andrew  had  remained  standing  beside  the  table. 

"  Is  that  all  now?  "  he  inquired. 

His  father  regarded  him  with  a  fine  jovial  scorn, 
much  as  Sir  John  Falstaff  might  have  regarded  the 
inventor  of  lemonade. 

"  I  doubt  you  're  a  hopeless  case,"  said  he, 
' '  There  's  ginger  enough  in  an  ordinary  policeman 
to  make  three  of  you.  But  I  'm  not  going  to  let 
you  lose  Ellen  Berstoun  if  I  can  help  it.  Run 
away  now  and  complain  to  your  auntie. ' ' 

In  pointed  silence  Andrew  availed  himself  of 
128 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

this  permission,  while  his  father  remained  to  light 
a  cigar  and  meditate  upon  the  disadvantages  of 
unalloyed  respectability.  A  fine  example  in  many 
ways  Andrew  undoubtedly  was,  just  as  he  trusted 
he  had  been  himself ;  but  he  showed  up  poorly  when 
it  came  to  love-making.  He  was  too  old  for  his 
age ;  that  was  the  trouble  with  Andrew.  Now  that 
he  came  to  think  of  it,  there  was  something  uncom- 
panionable in  elderly  people.  It  was  surprising 
he  had  not  noticed  it  before,  but  lately  it  had  oc- 
curred to  him  forcibly.  A  brisk  young  fellow  like 
Frank,  a  pretty  girl  like  Jean  —  one  felt  more  in 
touch  with  them.  Perhaps  they  were  a  trifle  on  the 
juvenile  side:  the  choicest,  the  most  sympathetic 
period  of  life  was  undoubtedly  that  attained  by  — 
Mr.  Walkingshaw  jumped  up,  laid  down  his  cigar, 
and  started  for  the  drawing-room.  What  a  fine 
woman  Madge  was ! 

He  spent  a  delightful  hour  in  the  ladies'  soci- 
ety. The  obliging  widow  was  easily  prevailed  upon 
to  gratify  a  passion  he  had  lately  developed  for 
tuneful  and  romantic  melody,  and  she  thrummed 
through  five  waltzes  and  the  whole  of  two  comic 
operas,  while  he  sat  on  the  sofa  holding  Jean 's  hand 
and  exchanging  confidential  smiles.  Jean  was  in 
the  seventh  heaven  of  happiness;  the  widow  en- 
9  129 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

thusiastically  approved  of  the  symptoms;  and  the 
only  critic  present  appeared  to  be  his  exemplary 
sister.  She  listened  to  the  concert  with  a  bleak 
face,  and  regarded  the  dalliance  on  the  sofa  out  of 
a  troubled  and  uncomprehending  eye. 

Aglow  with  sentiments,  which  from  being  mere 
amorphous  ecstasies  were  rapidly  developing  into 
shapely  visions  of  black  eyes  and  well-nourished 
contours,  Mr.  Walkingshaw  bade  good-night  to  the 
ladies  and  settled  himself  comfortably  in  his  easy- 
chair  before  a  friendly  fire  and  in  company  with  a 
fragrant  pipe.  How  delicious  his  tobacco  tasted! 
Evidently  this  last  tin  must  be  of  a  superior  qual- 
ity. He  resolved  that  he  should  insist  on  being  sup- 
plied with  the  same  high-class  variety  in  future. 

At  this  point  his  pleasant  reverie  was  interrupted 
by  the  entrance  of  Frank,  just  returned  from  din- 
ing with  a  friend.  His  father  greeted  him  genially. 

"  Well,  my  boy,  help  yourself  to  a  drink  and 
light  your  pipe. ' ' 

Frank  glanced  at  him  suspiciously.  He  had 
never  before  been  encouraged  either  to  drink  or  to 
smoke;  indeed,  he  had  more  than  once  complained 
that  his  father  seemed  to  forget  he  was  now  a 
grown-up  man.  What  his  sudden  cordiality  meant 
he  could  not  divine;  but  on  general  principles  he 
130 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

feared  it.  This  did  not  prevent  him  from  accept- 
ing both  overtures  and  sitting  down  on  the  other 
side  of  the  fire.  Mr.  Walkingshaw  asked  him  a  few 
questions  about  how  he  had  spent  the  evening,  al- 
ways with  the  same  friendly  air,  till  the  young  sol- 
dier began  to  suspect  he  had  negotiated  some  pe- 
culiarly fortunate  business  transaction.  He  be- 
came emboldened  to  approach  what  he  feared  might 
prove  a  delicate  subject. 

"  I  'm  thinking  of  running  up  to  London  for  a 
week  or  two,"  he  began. 

"  An  excellent  idea,"  said  his  parent.  "  It  must 
be  rather  slow  for  you  here." 

Frank  got  more  and  more  encouraged* 

"  The  only  trouble  is,  I  find  myself  rather  short 
of  funds." 

"  How  much  do  you  want?  " 

The  going  was  too  smooth  to  last,  thought  Frank. 
He  became  cautious. 

' '  Oh,  a  tenner  or  so,  I  suppose, ' '  he  suggested. 

' '  A  tenner !  ' '  exclaimed  his  father. 

' '  Say  a  fiver,  then, ' '  said  Frank  hurriedly. 

' '  A  fiver  for  a  week  or  two  in  London  ?    My 

dear  boy,  you  don 't  know  how  to  do  the  thing  at  all. 

Your  return  ticket  will  cost  you  over  three  pounds ; 

supposing  one  averages  your  dinners  at  ten  shil- 

131 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

lings  a  night  for  a  fortnight  —  that  's  seven  pounds 
more;  suppers,  even  if  you  supped  alone  "  (here 
he  winked  upon  his  startled  offspring),  "  will  run 
you  at  least  as  much.  Put  railway  and  grub  at 
thirty  pounds  —  just  to  be  safe.  Then  you  '11  be 
going  to  theaters  and  music-halls,  and  taking  cabs, 
and  having  a  week-end  at  Brighton  —  and  the  Lord 
knows  what  else.  My  hat,  it  will  be  a  spree !  ' ' 

With  sparkling  eyes  and  a  beaming  smile  he  leant 
forward  in  his  chair  and  tapped  his  son  upon  the 
knee. 

"  I  '11  come  with  you,  Frank." 

"  You!  "  gasped  the  poor  youth. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Walkingshaw,  apparently  more 
to  himself  than  to  Frank,  "  that  's  the  way  to  set 
about  it!  " 

He  beamed  upon  his  son  confidentially. 

"  I  've  got  a  splendid  idea,  and  you  're  just  the 
very  chap  to  help  me.  I  won't  spoil  sport,  my 
boy,  but  I  '11  travel  up  with  you  —  and,  by  Jove,  we 
might  stop  at  the  same  hotel,  if  that  would  n  't  em- 
barrass you.  Would  it  ?  " 

"  N  — no,"  said  Frank,  "  n  — not  at  all." 

"  Just  what  we  were  needing  —  a  little  blow-out 
in  London,  eh?  " 

Frank  gave  a  little  nervous  laugh. 
132 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Do  you  really  mean  it?  " 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  was  now  standing  in  front  of 
the  fire,  alternately  rising  on  tiptoe  and  thump- 
ing down  on  his  heels. 

"  Don't  I  just!  When  shall  we  start  —  to-mor- 
row morning  ?  ' : 

"  To-morrow!  But  I  haven't  done  any  pack- 
ing." 

"  Well,  no  more  have  I.  We  '11  just  chuck  in  a 
few  things  and  buy  anything  else  we  want  in  Lon- 
don. I  need  practically  a  new  outfit  myself.  Can 
you  introduce  me  to  a  good  tailor?  " 

' '  Ye  —  es, "  stammered  Frank. 

"  That 's  all  settled,  then." 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  began  to  laugh  mysteriously. 

"  I  'd  like  to  see  Andrew's  face  when  he  learns 
I  've  gone!  " 

"  But  are  n't  you  going  to  tell  him  ?  " 

Mr.  Walkingshaw 's  voice  sank. 

"  Not  a  word  to  any  of  them,  Frank!  You  put 
my  things  into  your  cab  without  any  one  noticing ; 
I  '11  say  I  'm  going  to  the  office ;  and  we  '11  meet  at 
the  station.  I  don 't  want  to  get  talked  about,  you 
see." 

It  was  reassuring  to  find  that  Mr.  Walkingshaw 
still  valued  his  reputation,  even  though  the  meas- 
133 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

ures  he  took  to  preserve  it  were  not  excessively  con- 
vincing. 

"  All  right,  then,"  said  Frank;  "  I  'd  better  go 
and  pack  now.  Good-night." 

"  Good-night,  my  boy,"  his  father  answered  fer- 
vently. ' '  God  bless  you !  ' ' 

The  Cromarty  Highlander  had  been  through 
some  nerve-testing  experiences,  but,  as  he  went  to 
his  room,  he  realized  that  the  severest  ordeals  often 
occur  in  civil  life. 

Meanwhile,  his  parent  at  a  leisurely  pace  was 
following  him  upstairs  when  he  perceived  a  light 
still  burning  in  the  drawing-room.  He  gently 
pushed  the  door  open,  and  a  smile  of  peculiar 
pleasure  irradiated  his  rosy  face.  There,  busy  at 
the  writing-table  and  quite  alone,  sat  the  sympa- 
thetic widow.  He  remembered  how  prettily  she 
had  answered  a  simple  interjection  once  before. 

"Hullo!"  he  warbled. 


134 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  widow  started  and  turned  in  her  chair. 
This  time  she  did  not  archly  cap  his  greeting.  In- 
stead, her  exclamation  had  a  tincture  of  alarm.  He 
was  so  very  unlike  his  usual  self. 

"  Writing  a  billet-doux?  "  he  inquired,  still 
smiling. 

He  softly  closed  the  door  behind  him,  and  ap- 
proached her  with  a  kind  of  jaunty,  springy  gait 
that  increased  her  perplexity.  She  loved  to  see 
him  lively,  but  this  smirking  manner  was  really 
almost  peculiar. 

"  May  I  sit  at  your  feet,  Madge?  "  he  asked, 
and  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  drew  up  a 
footstool  and  planted  himself  so  close  to  her  knees 
that  the  sense  of  propriety  felt  by  all  fine  women 
with  any  experience  of  life  impelled  her  to  with- 
draw them  some  three  inches  farther  from  his  shoul- 
der. At  the  same  time  she  bent  her  head  a  very 
little  forward  and  gently  drew  in  her  breath.  The 
late  Captain  Dunbar  had  possessed  in  addition  to 
the  virtues  of  a  dashing  temperament,  certain  of 
135 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

its  failings,  and  her  cousin's  demeanor  decidedly 
reminded  her  of  his  conduct  after  particularly  con- 
vivial evenings  at  the  mess.  But  the  test  was  reas- 
suring. Her  nose  was  keen,  and  she  noticed  noth- 
ing —  absolutely  nothing. 

' '  What  a  beastly  big  barn  of  a  room  this  is, ' '  he 
began. 

She  was  at  a  loss  quite  what  to  answer.  Could 
he  mean  this :  he  who  prided  himself  on  the  becom- 
ing stateliness  of  his  house? 

' '  Oh,  I  think  it  is  a  very  fine  and  —  and  —  im- 
pressive room,  Heriot,"  she  answered  guardedly. 

"  It  's  too  big  and  gloomy  for  a  widower.  It 
makes  one  feel  kind  of  lonely. ' ' 

The  widow  smiled  sweetly.  She  quite  under- 
stood what  he  meant  now.  The  reminiscence  of 
the  late  Captain  Dunbar  faded  away,  and  once 
more  she  was  sympathy  itself. 

' '  Are  you  often  lonely  ?  ' '  she  inquired  softly. 

He  looked  up  into  her  face  with  a  curious  hint 
of  boyishness  in  his  face. 

."  Not  while  you  are  here,  Madge." 

Again  a  species  of  divine  instinct  possessed  Mr. 

Walkingshaw.     Without  permission  asked  or  given, 

he  took  his  fair  cousin's  hand  and  gently  held  it. 

At  the  same  time  a  longing  to  be  confidential  in- 

136 


vaded  him.     He  had  a  really  prime  secret  to  share 
with  her. 

"  I  am  going  up  to  London  to-morrow  morn- 
ing !  "  he  announced. 

It  did  not  surprise  her  that  business  should  take 
him  up  to  town ;  it  did  that  his  eyes  should  twinkle 
at  the  prospect.  She  began  to  feel  a  trifle  less  sym- 
pathetic. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  why  are  you  going?  " 
For  a  moment  he  hesitated.  Could  he  venture 
to  confide  in  her?  The  young  and  amorous  Heriot 
said,  "  Of  course!  Such  a  divinity  will  be  all 
sympathy."  But  the  senior  partner  in  Walking- 
shaw  &  Gilliflower  emphatically  retorted.  "  Never 
tell  a  woman  what  you  don 't  want  the  whole  town 
to  know!  "  He  was  still  old  enough  to  obey  the 
more  prudent  counselor. 

"  I  'm  going  to  see  my  old  friend  Colonel 
Munro." 

Decidedly  Mr.  Walkingshaw  was  fast  acquiring 
that  quick  adaptation  to  circumstances  which  is  the 
hall-mark  of  youth.  He  had  not  thought  of  his  old 
friend  Charlie  Munro  for  the  last  year  or  more, 
and  here  he  was  coming  in  most  usefully  just  when 
he  was  wanted.  Heriot  recognized  with  a  touch  of 
awe  his  own  unwonted  fertility. 
137 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Don't  tell  any  one!  "  he  added,  and  then  im- 
mediately realized  that  at  the  same  time  he  must 
be  losing  a  little  of  that  valuable  discretion  which 
had  characterized  the  head  of  Walkingshaw  &  Gilli- 
flower. 

"  My  dear  Heriot,  this  sounds  suspicious." 

He  realized  now  the  penalties  for  indiscretion. 

"  I  am  going  to  see  him  on  particularly  private 
business.  We  do  not  wish  it  to  get  talked  about." 

He  thought  he  had  recovered  his  old  manner  to  a 
nicety,  but  what  was  his  surprise  when  his  cousin 
shook  a  well-manicured  finger  in  his  face,  and 
cried  — 

' '  What  a  naughty  boy  you  are  getting !  I  won- 
der whether  I  ought  to  tell  on  you  or  not  ?  ' ' 

This  time  he  tried  another  of  his  ingenuous 
smiles. 

"  you  wouldn't  tell  on  me,  Madge!  " 

"  Oh,  indeed!  Why  should  I  care  about  your 
reputation?  " 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  deliberately  faced  the  situa- 
tion. He  had  not  meant  to  commit  himself  that 
evening  —  not,  in  fact,  till  he  had  enjoyed  an  un- 
trammeled  week  in  town;  but  he  had  placed  his 
reputation  in  this  charming  lady's  hands,  and  he 
realized  he  must  obtain  a  receipt  for  it. 
138 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

' '  Don 't  you  care  about  me  ?  "  he  inquired  ten- 
derly. 

"  What  —  what  do  you  mean,  Heriot?  "  she  fal- 
tered. 

"  You  are  everything  to  me,"  he  answered,  and 
looking  into  her  black  eyes,  inwardly  decided  that 
this  expressed  very  little  more  than  the  precise 
truth. 

It  was  a  very  few  minutes  after  this  that  he 
found  himself  seated  very  close  to  the  sympathetic 
widow's  side,  with  one  arm  encircling  a  consider- 
able segment  of  what  had  been  a  remarkably  trim 
waist,  and  the  other  hand  toying  with  a  collection 
of  ruby  and  amethyst  rings. 

"  I  do  hope  I  shan't  disappoint  you,  Heriot," 
she  murmured. 

"  No  fear  of  that,  my  dear,"  said  he,  pinching 
one  of  her  plump  fingers. 

"  It  will  be  rather  a  Darby  and  Joan  marriage, 
of  course, ' '  she  smiled. 

"  Will  it?  "  replied  Heriot,  with  a  glint  out  of 
the  corner  of  his  eye  that  reminded  her  forcibly  of 
the  late  Captain  Dunbar. 

"  Oh,  Heriot!  "  she  expostulated.     "  Remember 
you  're  the  father  of  a  grown-up  family. ' ' 
139 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Well,"  he  replied,  with  amorous  facetiousness, 
"  what  man  has  done,  man  can  do." 

The  lady  endeavored  gently  to  withdraw  her 
hand,  but  he  held  it  firmly. 

"  Will  it  be  a  long  engagement?  "  she  asked, 
with  a  colder  smile. 

"  By  Jove,  not  very!  "  he  whispered  riotously. 

She  felt  like  one  of  those  intelligent  persons  who 
pull  the  triggers  of  supposititiously  unloaded  guns. 
By  a  supreme  effort  she  mastered  her  emotion  and 
remarked  — 

"  I  wonder  what  your  family  will  say." 

He  kissed  her  demonstratively  and  cried  — 

"  My  family  be  hanged!  I  'm  not  going  to  tell 
them  yet. ' ' 

"  When  will  you?  "  she  asked,  disengaging  her- 
self with  a  difficulty  that  impressed  her  still 
further. 

"  Time  enough  when  I  get  back  from  London." 

The  widow  was  not  altogether  unsophisticated. 
This  blend  of  abandonment  and  secrecy  impressed 
her  unfavorably.  She  had  known  of  more  than  one 
ballroom  proposal  where  the  gentleman  was  just 
sufficiently  master  of  his  emotions  to  stipulate  for 
silence  till  he  had  departed  on  a  twelvemonth's 
furlough. 

140 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  How  soon  are  you  coming  back?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Week  or  two,"  he  answered  airily. 

1 '  A  week  or  two  to  see  Colonel  Munro !  ' ' 

"  Intricate  business,"  he  answered  her,  with  a 
fresh  salute. 

"  Poor  old  Charles  Munro  is  a  kind  of  relation 
of  mine,"  she  observed. 

He  eyed  her  with  more  surprise  than  passion. 

"Oh!     I  didn't  know  that" 

' '  I  have  n  't  written  to  him  for  years.  I  think  I 
must  send  him  a  letter  this  week. ' ' 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  realized  that  he  was  marry- 
ing brains  as  well  as  beauty.  He  also  realized  that 
Colonel  Munro  was  now  part  of  his  London  pro- 
gramme. However,  on  second  thoughts,  Charlie 
Munro  was  a  dear  old  fellow,  and  very  likely  he  'd 
have  been  looking  him  up  in  any  case.  His  spirits 
bounded  up  again.  In  fact,  why  should  they  ever 
sink  with  such  a  fair  creature  by  his  side  ? 

"  Do,  darling,"  he  whispered. 

She  surrendered  herself  to  his  affection  and 
sighed  happily.  Why  should  she  feel  disturbed 
with  one  of  the  most  respectable  of  Writers  to  the 
Signet  pledged  to  devote  his  declining  years  to 
her  consolation  ? 

"  I  trust  you,  Heriot,"  she  murmured. 
141 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

* '  My  little  duck !  "  he  answered  tenderly. 

At  twelve  o'clock  next  morning  the  London  ex- 
press thundered  on  to  the  bridge  across  the  Solway. 
Mr.  Walkingshaw  looked  up  at  his  son. 

"  We  're  out  of  Scotland  now,"  he  said,  with  a 
sigh  of  reminiscent  ardor.  ' '  Home  and  beauty  are 
far  behind  us,  Frank. ' ' 

Then  in  a  different  key  he  added  — 

"It  is  curious  that  my  spirits  should  keep 
rising. ' ' 

From  which  it  appeared  that  he  had  grown 
young  enough  to  realize  that  though  lunch  may  be 
over,  there  is  always  dinner  to  look  forward  to. 


142 


PART  III 


CHAPTER  I 

COLONEL  MUNRO  drew  the  ends  of  his  white  tie 
through  the  loop  in  the  middle  with  infinite  care. 
In  a  very  wide  circle  of  acquaintances  he  was  uni- 
versally known  as  ' '  Charlie  ' '  Munro ;  and  you  had 
only  to  look  at  him  to  see  how  appropriate  was  this 
gallant  diminutive.  His  head  was  bald  at  the  top, 
but  cleanly  and  beautifully  bald,  like  a  head  of  the 
finest  marble;  on  either  side  and  behind,  his  hair 
was  both  white  and  curly;  his  eye  was  bright,  his 
features  remarkably  handsome,  his  mustache  a  slen- 
der ornament  of  silver,  and  his  figure  tall  and 
slender.  At  sixty-three  he  was  probably  hand- 
somer than  he  had  ever  been  before  in  his  life ;  and 
that  was  saying  a  great  deal.  He  lived  in  very 
pleasant  bachelor  chambers  in  St.  James'  under 
the  charge  of  a  competent  valet. 

"  Let  me  see  that  card  again,"  he  said,  as  he 
gave  his  tie  those  little  finishing  touches  that  con- 
verted it  from  an  elegant  accessory  into  a  work  of 
art. 

The  valet  went  to  his  sitting-room  and  returned 
10  145 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

with  a  calling  card  on  a  tray.  Colonel  Munro  stud- 
ied it  a  trifle  lugubriously. 

"  James  Heriot  Walkingshaw, "  he  read,  with 
this  addendum  in  pencil,  ' '  Shall  call  for  you  7 :30. 
Count  on  your  company  at  dinner." 

The  Colonel  buttoned  his  white  waistcoat. 

' '  Did  n  't  you  tell  Mr.  Walkingshaw  that  I  would 
probably  be  engaged?  "  he  asked. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  the  valet  smoothly,  "  the  gen- 
tleman seemed  such  an  old  friend  of  yours,  I 
thought  perhaps  you  would  n 't  like  to  miss  him. ' ' 

"  One's  oldest  friends  are  sometimes  d d 

nuisances,  Forman." 

The  Colonel  saw  the  pleasant  evening  he  had 
contemplated  spending  in  the  society  of  two  or 
three  of  the  gayest  old  bloods  in  London  darken- 
ing into  a  tete-d  tete  with  Mr.  Walkingshaw  at  his 
portentously  respectable  club,  and  regretted  he  had 
allowed  Forman  to  lay  out  a  clean  white  waistcoat ; 
for  he  was,  by  force  of  circumstances,  economical 
as  well  as  gallant. 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  said  he,  "I  don't  mean  to 
wait  a  minute  after  7 :30.  If  he  turns  up  late,  you 
can  make  my  apologies,  and  say  I  '11  be  happy  to 
lunch  with  him  to-morrow. ' ' 

He  put  on  his  coat,  added  an  overcoat  and  white 
146 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

scarf,  cocked  his  opera  hat  on  his  shapely  old  head, 
and  sat  confronting  his  sitting-room  clock.  At 
7 :29  he  rose  briskly,  and  then  with  a  sigh  sank 
back  into  his  chair.  He  heard  a  footstep  on  the 
stair. 

11  Mr.  Walkingshaw, "  announced  the  valet. 

The  Colonel  advanced  with  that  courteous  smile 
for  which  he  was  renowned. 

' '  My  dear  Charlie !  ' '  cried  his  visitor. 

"  Well,  Heriot,"  smiled  the  Colonel,  looking  a 
little  surprised  at  the  remarkable  joviality  of  this 
greeting. 

He  surveyed  his  old  friend  up  and  down,  and 
seemed  still  more  surprised. 

' '  "What  a  buck  you  are !  "  he  exclaimed. 

In  truth,  Mr.  Walkingshaw,  arrayed  in  a  new 
opera  hat,  a  new  and  shining  pair  of  dress  boots, 
and  a  fashionable  new  overcoat,  cut  a  very  different 
figure  from  the  sedate  W.S.  of  the  Colonel's  pre- 
vious acquaintance. 

Heriot  looked  a  trifle  self-conscious. 

"  I  hope  I  have  n't  overdone  the  thing,"  said  he. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  smiled  the  Colonel,  as  a  bright 
inspiration  struck  him.     "  The  only  criticism  I  'd 
make  is  that  you  are  really  thrown  away  on  the 
members  of  your  very  sedate  club,  Heriot." 
147 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

' '  Oh,  but  I  did  n  't  mean  to  dine  you  at  my 
club." 

Colonel  Munro  opened  his  eyes  and  smiled  again. 

"  Where  do  you  propose?  " 

' '  Well,  I  thought  perhaps  you  might  advise  me. ' ' 

"  Let  me  see,"  mused  Charlie,  with  a  pleasant 
air. 

"  What  about  the  Carlton?  " 

"  First-rate,  if  you  care  to  run  to  that." 

"  I've  booked  a  table  there  on  spec,"  said  Heriot. 

The  Colonel  beamed. 

"  I  say,  you  're  coming  out,  Heriot.  Blowing 
the  expense  this  time,  what  ?  ' ' 

"  I  don't  care  what  I  spend!  "  replied  his  old 
friend,  in  a  burst  of  confidence. 

"  Then  let  's  start,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  Like  to 
take  a  cab?  " 

"  I  've  got  one  waiting." 

"  After  you,"  said  Charlie,  holding  the  door 
open. 

He  was  struck  by  the  agility  with  which  his  old 
friend  descended  the  stairs,  and  smiled  afresh  at 
the  increasing  possibilities  of  the  situation. 

"  I   say,   this   is   very   pleasant,"   beamed   Mr. 
Walkingshaw  as  they  jingled  off  in  a  hansom. 
148 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Rather  bashfully  he  took  from  his  overcoat  pocket 
a  pair  of  dazzling  white  kid  gloves. 

"  These  are  the  proper  things  in  the  evening, 
aren't  they?"  he  inquired.  "I  notice  you've 
got  on  a  pair. ' ' 

His  guest  chuckled. 

"  They  '11  do  to  dance  in  afterwards  if  we  go  on 
to  Covent  Garden,"  he  laughed,  and  then  added 
waggishly,  "  How  would  you  like  to  go  to  a  fancy 
dress  ball,  Heriot?  " 

"  Is  there  one  on  to-night?  "  asked  Heriot. 

"  Yes." 

"  Are  you  going?  " 

' '  Oh,  I  've  given  up  that  sort  of  thing  years  ago ; 
but  of  course,  if  you  're  keen  to  go,  I  might  stretch 
a  point." 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  looked  at  him  doubtfully  out 
of  the  corner  of  his  eye  and  answered  nothing. 

A  little  later  the  two  old  friends  had  grown  more 
merrily  confidential  than  they  had  been  since  the 
days  of  their  youth.  Charlie  Munro  was  a  little 
puzzled  by  the  subtle  alteration  in  his  host,  but 
he  was  not  in  the  least  disposed  to  criticize  it.  He 
felt  more  and  more  inclined  to  tempt  him  into  a 
further  display  of  frivolity. 
149 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Well,  now,  what  about  the  Covent  Garden 
ball?  "  he  suggested. 

Heriot  's  eyes  grew  bright,  but  his  mouth  pursed 
cautiously. 

"  Are  n't  they  rather  —  er  —  fast  ?  "  he  in- 
quired. 

"  As  fast  as  you  choose  to  make  'em." 

' '  But  are  n  't  the  ladies  rather  —  er  —  rather  — 
well—" 

' '  Not  a  bit, ' '  said  the  Colonel.  '  *  There  's  a  mix- 
ture, that  's  all." 

"  But  I  say,  Charlie,  what  about  being  seen  by 
any  one  we  know  ?  ' ' 

' '  We  '11  get  a  disguise  for  you, ' '  smiled  Charlie. 

"  Really,  can  you?  " 

"Oh,  I'll  see  to  that." 

He  began  to  picture  a  very  amusing  eveningtwith 
his  old  friend  Heriot.  silt 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  drank  off  his  glass  of  cham- 
pagne. 

"  Well,  if  you  're  game  — "  said  he. 

"  I  'm  game  for  anything,  my  dear  fellow,  so 
long  as  I  Ve  you  by  my  side,"  laughed  Charlie. 
"  When  you  're  tired,  I  '11  promise  to  take  you 
away.  Shall  we  call  it  arranged?  " 

"  I  '11  risk  it,"  said  Heriot  stoutly. 
150 


CHAPTER  II 

BOUND  came  the  big  man  in  the  purple  domino 
and  the  long  false  nose,  hopping  blithely  to  the 
crashing  waltz,  his  arm  encircling  the  waist  of  a 
little  lady  attired  to  represent  a  hot  cross-bun. 
Then  he  was  lost  in  the  crowd,  and  the  Colonel's 
eyes,  in  which  for  a  moment  a  spark  of  wonder 
had  burned,  grew  old  and  tired  again.  As  he  stood 
there  alone,  with  youth  and  recklessness  gambol- 
ing before  him,  he  realized  somberly  that  for  him 
this  revel  was  ended.  How  he  would  have  enjoyed 
it  once!  But  never,  never  again.  His  straight, 
soldierly  back  bent  with  weariness;  he  jerked  back 
his  shoulders,  but  they  slipped  forward,  forward, 
and  he  let  them  stay.  How  little  the  fair  faces  in- 
terested him ;  how  stupidly  riotous  these  young  fel- 
lows were ! 

Round  came  the  false  nose  again,  and  this  time 

the  empurpled  figure  unclasped  one  hand  of  the 

hot  cross-bun  and  waved  a  genial  greeting  as  they 

stampeded  by.     And  again  a  gleam,  almost  of  fear, 

151 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

lit  the  Colonel's  weary  eyes.  It  was  horrible,  gro- 
tesque, inhuman,  to  see  the  friend  of  his  youth,  a 
man  older  than  himself,  the  honored  head  of  a  re- 
spectable firm,  the  father  of  five  grown-up  chil- 
dren, going  on  like  this.  The  Colonel  had  thought 
it  would  be  funny,  but  as  hour  succeeded  hour,  and 
the  ringleader  of  the  frolic  gradually  became  a 
wearied  spectator,  this  superhuman  display  of  high- 
spirited  energy  grew  long  past  a  joke.  Charlie 
had  never  been  austere,  but  there  were  limits  to  all 
things.  Good  Gad,  there  were  limits !  If  the  man 
had  got  drunk  or  grown  vicious,  he  might  have  ex- 
cused him.  But  to  see  him  interminably  bounding 
round  that  floor  behind  six  inches  of  pasteboard 
nose!  He  began  to  move  away.  He  could  stand 
the  spectacle  no  longer. 

Again  the  false  nose  hopped  by,  and  this  time 
disengaged  himself  hurriedly  from  his  partner  and 
hastened  after  the  retiring  Colonel. 

"  You  're  not  going,  Charlie?  "  he  cried. 

His  friend  turned  and  stared  at  him  piteously. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  take  off  that  nose, 
Heriot!" 

The  W.S.  removed  it  with  a  laugh. 

"  Put  it  on  yourself,  Charlie,  and  have  a  turn 
152 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

with  my  partner, ' '  lie  urged.     ' '  She  dances  really 
magnificently,  you  know." 

Colonel  Munro  laid  his  hand  beseechingly  upon 
his  arm. 

' '  Come  home,  Heriot !  You  '11  be  devilish  sorry 
for  this  to-morrow,  as  it  is ;  and  if  you  dance  any 
more,  by  Gad,  you  may  kill  yourself!  My  dear 
fellow,  think  of  your  age. ' ' 

Heriot  received  this  objection  with  a  cheerful 
laugh. 

"  You  're  not  going  yourself,  surely?  "  he  in- 
quired. 

11  lam." 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  looked  at  him  anxiously. 

"  I  say,  you  do  look  tired,  Charlie.  How  's 
that?" 

' '  I  am  sixty-three, ' '  replied  the  Colonel,  with  an 
instinctive  lowering  of  his  voice.  He  never  stated 
his  age  if  he  could  help  it. 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  continued  to  gaze  at  him 
oddly. 

"  I  had  forgotten  how  one  feels  at  that  time  of 

life,"  he  said  musingly,  "  quite  forgotten.     Poor 

old  Charlie;  I  oughtn't  to  have  kept  you  up  so 

late.     I  'd  have  felt  like  that  at  sixty-three  myself. 

153 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Well,  my  dear  fellow,  I  'm  glad  we  were  able  to 
have  this  night  together  before  it  became  too  late. 
It  has  made  me  feel  quite  old  again  to  see  you. ' ' 

Colonel  Munro  seized  his  arm  and  drew  him 
towards  the  door,  with  all  the  vehemence  of  which 
he  was  capable. 

' '  Come  along  —  come  along,  Heriot !  "  he  im- 
plored him ;  ' '  you  have  had  a  little  more  to  drink 
than  you  quite  realize !  ' ' 

Heriot  disengaged  himself  very  easily  from  his 
trembling  grip. 

"  My  poor  old  boy,"  he  smiled,  "  I  'm  as  sober 
as  you  were  when  you  started!  I  positively  re- 
quire the  exercise.  Besides,  you  must  remember 
that  this  sort  of  thing  is  only  just  beginning  for 
me ;  don 't  grudge  me  my  fling.  Get  you  to  bed  as 
quick  as  you  can,  Charlie.  Sleep  is  what  you  're 
needing." 

' '  And  do  you  know  what  you  need  ?  ' '  exclaimed 
the  Colonel,  with  another  grab  at  his  sleeve. 

' '  A  taste  of  life !  ' '  cried  Heriot,  evading  his  old 
fingers  with  wonderful  agility,  and  slipping  on  his 
pasteboard  nose. 

He  waved  a  gay  farewell,  threw  his  arm  round 
the  waist  of  the  hot  cross-bun,  and  waltzed  out  of 
the  Colonel 's  vision. 

154 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

It  was  not  till  two  hours  later  that  Heriot  Walk- 
ingshaw,  smiling  with  reminiscent  pleasure  and 
perspiring  freely,  set  out  on  foot  for  his  hotel.  A 
brisk  walk  in  the  early  morning  air  was  the  only 
pick-me-up  he  needed. 


155 


CHAPTER  III 

DURING  their  descent  upon  the  Metropolis  of 
England,  Mr.  Walkingshaw  and  his  son  were  re- 
siding at  the  Hotel  Gigantique,  that  stately  new 
pile  in  Piccadilly,  so  styled,  it  is  understood,  from 
the  bills  presented  when  you  leave.  On  the  morn- 
ing after  his  evening  spent  with  Charlie  Munro, 
they  met  as  usual  at  breakfast.  Fortunately,  the 
state  of  Mr.  Walkingshaw 's  health  did  not  in  the 
least  seem  to  justify  the  forebodings  of  his  friend. 
On  the  contrary,  he  tackled  a  fried  sole  with  con- 
fidence, even  with  ardor,  and  put  a  great  deal  of 
cream  into  his  coffee. 

"  What  were  you  about  last  night?  "  he  inquired 
genially. 

"  I  dined  with  one  or  two  fellows  at  the  Rag," 
said  Frank. 

"  Doesn't  sound  very  lively,"  observed  his 
father,  "  that  's  to  say,  at  your  age,"  he  hastened 
to  add;  for  he  still  believed  in  retaining  the  con- 
fidence of  his  children. 

Frank  smiled  dreamily.  This  "  bust  "  in  town 
156 


THE  PKODIGAL  FATHER 

was  proving  less  solacing  than  he  had  hoped.  Now 
that  he  had  got  here,  he  found  himself  too  love- 
lorn to  bust  with  any  relish.  At  the  same  time, 
it  was  pleasant  and  soothing  to  enjoy  each  day 
the  society  of  so  charming  a  parent.  Any  dis- 
quietude he  felt  at  the  singular  nature  of  the 
change  had  been  allayed  by  one  of  his  friends,  an 
R.A.M.C.  man,  who  assured  him  that  a  serious 
illness  at  his  father's  time  of  life  was  not  in- 
frequently followed  by  a  marked  rejuvenation  of 
the  patient;  so  that  he  was  able  to  regard  with 
unqualified  gratitude  the  generosity  and  kindness 
of  the  truant  Writer  to  the  Signet. 

"  What  were  you  doing  yourself?  "  he  inquired 
presently. 

"  Dining  with  Colonel  Munro,"  replied  his 
father,  truthfully  if  a  trifle  meagerly. 

He  sipped  his  coffee,  and  then  remarked  — 

"  Poor  Charlie  Munro  is  growing  old,  I  'm 
afraid.  He  knocks  up  very  easily." 

He  sighed  and  added,  "  It  's  a  melancholy  thing, 
Frank,  my  boy,  to  see  one's  old  friends  slipping 
away  from  one." 

"  What!     Is  he  seriously  ill?  "  asked  Frank. 

"  Oh,    I    don't    mean    that.     I    mean  —  well, 
everything   has    its    compensating    disadvantages. 
157 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Mine  is  that  my  contemporaries  are  outgrowing 
me.  Charlie  and  I  started  the  evening  in  capital 
style;  he  was  up  to  anything,  and  I  was  on  for 
anything.  But  by  the  end  of  the  night  we  were 
quite  out  of  sympathy.  The  fact  is,  he  is  still  in 
the  sixties.  However,  my  duty  has  been  done; 
I  've  seen  him,  and  that  's  over. ' ' 

He  helped  himself  to  some  more  fish,  and  con- 
tinued with  animation  — 

"  Now  I  can  carry  out  my  idea!  I  may  or  may 
not  set  about  it  the  right  way,  but  I  do  want  to 
make  you  all  happy  Frank." 

It  was  perhaps  well  for  his  continued  equanimity 
that  during  the  first  part  of  this  speech  Frank 
was  lost  in  contemplation  of  a  singularly  vivid 
image  of  Ellen  Berstoun.  She  had  a  distracting 
habit  of  appearing  like  that  to  the  young  soldier, 
of  which  he  was  unable  to  cure  her.  He  started 
out  of  his  reverie  with  the  last  words. 

"  My  dear  father,  you  're  the  best  sportsman  I 
know, ' '  he  replied  warmly. 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  looked  highly  gratified  at  this 
compliment. 

"  That  's  what  I  'm  aiming  at,"  he  answered. 

He  leaned  over  the  table  and  continued  con- 
fidentially — 

158 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Of  course  you  are  happy,  Frank.  There  's 
really  nothing  Providence  could  do  for  you  except 
put  a  little  money  in  your  pocket,  and  give  you 
a  good  time  —  eh?  " 

"  Oh  — er  — nothing." 

"  What  's  the  matter?  That  does  n't  sound  very 
cheerful. ' ' 

"  I  assure  you  I  'm  as  cheerful  as  —  er  —  er  — 
anything,"  said  Frank  heroically. 

' '  I  was  sure  of  it.  But  poor  Jean  —  she  's  got 
her  troubles,  eh,  Frank?  " 

Frank  warmed  up  at  his  sister 's  name. 

"  She  has,"  he  admitted. 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  thoughtfully  piled  several 
slices  of  bacon  on  his  plate.  It  would  have  re- 
assured Colonel  Munro  greatly  to  have  seen  him. 

' '  I  wish  I  was  sure  that  Vernon  was  good  enough 
for  her." 

Frank  looked  up  quickly. 

"  I  don't  think  anybody  is  quite  good  enough 
for  Jean ;  but  Lucas  Vernon  is  really  a  deuced  fine 
fellow." 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  still  seemed  doubtful. 

"A  bit  lazy,  I  'm  afraid." 

"  I  assure  you  he  's  not,"  said  Frank.    "  He 
works,  sir,  like  the  very  dickens." 
159 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  He  can't  sell  his  pictures,"  replied  his  father. 
* '  I  '11  never  believe  in  an  artist  till  he  can  sell  what 
he  paints." 

"  The  difficulty  for  a  painter  is  to  get  hold  of 
the  right  man  —  the  fellow  with  the  money,"  urged 
Frank. 

"  That  'a  a  mere  matter  of  time,"  said  his  father ; 
"  they  are  sure  to  meet  sooner  or  later,  and  then 
the  point  is,  has  he  painted  anything  worth  sell- 
ing? If  Vernon  can  manage  to  prove  that,  I 
may  begin  to  believe  in  him.  If  he  's  a  fraud  it 
is  time  the  thing  was  stopped  for  Jean 's  sake. ' ' 

He  looked  much  more  like  the  old  Heriot  Walk- 
ingshaw  than  he  had  for  some  weeks.  Then  he 
smiled,  though  still  with  an  exceedingly  shrewd 
air. 

"  Well,"  he  concluded,  "  we  '11  see.'' 


160 


CHAPTER  IV 

THERE  is  a  by-street  which  opens  out  of  the 
King's  Road,  Chelsea,  and  for  a  short  distance 
pursues  a  course  as  respectable  as  the  early  career 
of  Mr.  Walkingshaw.  Then,  not  unlike  that  gentle- 
man, it  diverges  at  right  angles;  and  having  once 
begun,  goes  on  doubling  for  the  remainder  of  its 
existence,  shedding,  as  it  gets  round  each  corner, 
the  more  orthodox  houses  that  once  bore  it  com- 
pany, till  at  last  it  becomes  a  mere  devious  lane, 
the  haunt  of  low  eccentric  buildings;  in  places, 
owing  to  a  casual  tree  or  two,  positively  shady. 
The  eccentric  buildings,  one  is  not  greatly  sur- 
prised to  hear,  are  nothing  more  decorous  than  the 
studios  of  Bohemian  painters.  Such  are  the 
dangers  of  deviating  from  a  straight  and  ade- 
quately lamp-lit  route. 

In  one  of  these  studios  a  young  man  fiercely 

painted.     His  powerful,  loosely  clad  figure  stepped 

nervously  back  and  forward,  his  brush  now  poised 

trembling  in  the  air,  now  dabbing  and  swishing 

"  161 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

on  the  long-suffering  canvas.  His  mop  of  brown 
hair  had  started  the  day  brushed  back  and  com- 
paratively sleek;  it  was  now  a  mere  tousel.  His 
butterfly  tie  had  been  a  thing  of  some  esthetic 
pretensions;  it  was  become  a  tangle  of  silk.  His 
smile  had  been  bland  and  his  manner  courteous; 
he  now  resembled  a  buffalo  with  a  bullet  in  it. 

"  The  beastly  thing  won't  come  right!  "  he 
roared. 

Another  young  man  reclined  upon  a  deck-chair 
in  company  with  three  cushions.  His  appearance 
was  equally  artistic,  but  he  seemed  less  strenuous. 
He  was  pale,  slim,  rather  pretty  than  handsome, 
and  engagingly  polite. 

' '  Cheer  up,  dear  old  fellow, ' '  he  suggested. 

' '  Damn !  ' '  muttered  Lucas. 

He  toiled  in  agitated  silence  for  some  minutes, 
and  then  burst  out  again. 

"No  one  will  ever  exhibit  the  thing;  no  one 
will  ever  look  twice  at  it;  there  's  not  a  fool 
big  enough  in  England  to  buy  it!  And  it  's  all 
but  the  best  bit  of  work  I  've  ever  done. ' ' 

"  That  '  all  but  '  lets  you  down,  I  suppose," 
observed  the  other  gently. 

"  One  could  fill  a  lunatic  asylum  with  you 
alone,"  replied  the  painter.  "  Why  don't  you  go 


off  and  do  some  work  instead  of  exhibiting  your 
incompetence  here?  " 

"  I  told  you  I  'd  a  headache,"  said  the  young 
man  in  the  chair  languidly. 

"  What  the  devil  's  in  your  head  to  ache  beats 
me,"  declared  Lucas,  accompanying  this  unkind 
speech  by  a  brutal  onslaught  on  the  canvas. 

' '  Dear  Lucas !  ' '  smiled  his  friend.  ' '  You  seem 
to  have  come  under  some  softening  influence  lately. 
Can  you  be  in  love  ?  ' ' 

The  painter  turned  and  confronted  him  with  a 
less  furious  air. 

"  You  know  I  am,"  he  replied,  and  strode  to 
the  end  of  the  studio  and  back,  while  the  other 
contemplated  him  in  pitying  silence. 

"  I  feel  a  fraud,  Hillary,"  he  resumed. 

"  So  long  as  you  aren't  found  out—  '  began 
Hillary. 

' '  I  have  found  myself  out, ' '  retorted  Lucas.  ' '  I 
boasted  I  could  make  an  income  for  her —  and 
look  at  this  daub !  ' ' 

"  The  public  likes  daubs." 

' '  If  they  know  the  signature ;  yes,  by  all  means. 
But  who  knows  mine  ?  ' ' 

"  Some  Jews  are  great  picture-buyers,"  sug- 
gested Hillary. 

163 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

An  answering  gleam  lit  Lucas's  eye  for  an 
instant,  and  then  burned  out. 

"  For  the  artist  there  are  three  ways  of  making 
a  living,"  he  pronounced.  "  One  is  painting  for 
the  million  —  children  with  rosy  cheeks  and  large 
wheelbarrows ;  beds  with  angels  hovering  over  them 
and  kind  doctors  with  stethoscopes  sitting  beside 
them  —  that  sort  of  thing  —  the  obvious  road  to 
the  heart.  The  second  is  hitting  the  superior  kind 
of  idiot  in  the  eye  —  inventing  a  cheap  new 
formula  —  putting  a  goblin  upside  down  in  one 
corner,  an  immoral-looking  woman  in  another, 
and  passing  the  arrangement  off  as  an  allegory. 
Then  up  jumps  an  interpreter  and  booms  you. 
The  third  is  slowly  making  your  name  by  the  sweat 
of  your  brow,  and  selling  your  pictures  when 
you  are  fifty-five  to  people  who  never  recognized 
their  merit  till  they  had  been  told  you  were 
famous. ' ' 

"  Well,"  said  Hillary,  "  that  gives  you  a  big- 
gish target." 

' '  Does  it  ?  I  have  no  popular  knack ;  I  lack 
the  conjurer 's  instincts ;  and  I  don 't  mean  to  wait 
for  Jean  "Walkingshaw  till  I  am  fifty-five." 

"  Must  it  be  she?  "  ask? d  Hillary. 

"  It  must!  " 

164 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Her  father  won't  help?  " 

"If  he  was  n  't  so  infernally  respectable  he  'd 
shoot  me  at  sight. ' ' 

"  Run  away  with  her.  Once  you  've  got  her, 
he  won 't  be  heathen  enough  to  let  her  starve. ' ' 

"  In  the  first  place/'  replied  Lucas,  "  she 
would  n 't  run  away  with  me.  That  's  the  infernal, 
charming,  irritating,  splendid  thing  about  her  — 
she  is  true  to  us  both. ' ' 

"  Won't  chuck  you  and  won't  chuck  the  old  boy 
either!  " 

Lucas  nodded. 

"  The  thing  can  be  done,"  said  Hillary  lan- 
guidly; "  it  only  wants  a  little  energy  and  enter- 
prise. Great  achievements  are  never  accomplished 
by  slackness.  Woman  was  created  to  yield  to  the 
energetic  advances  of  man.  Remember  that, 
Luc—" 

"  Besides,"  interrupted  the  painter,  who  had 
paid  singularly  little  attention  to  this  stirring 
speech,  "  I  happen  to  be  handicapped  by  a  little 
pride.  Can  you  imagine  me  helping  her  to  com- 
pose begging  letters  to  her  father?  '  We  are  in 
great  distress  this  winter,  and  a  check  for  twenty 
pounds  will  be  gratefully,  etc.  etc.  etc. !  '  Can  you 
see  me  stooping  to  that  sort  of  thing?  What?  " 
165 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  I  merely  threw  out  the  idea  as  it  were  ten- 
tatively," said  Hillary  mildly. 

Lucas  gave  his  mustaches  a  fierce  twist  and 
planted  himself  firmly  with  his  back  to  the  de- 
spised picture. 

"  It  must  have  been  a  practical  joke  of  the 
Devil's  that  gave  Jean  that  father  and  then  threw 
me  in  her  way.  Old  Heriot  Walkingshaw  is  one 
of  those  men  who  were  created  as  an  antidote 
to  human  affection.  He  stands  between  his  chil- 
dren 's  hearts  and  the  sunshine  outside  like  the  brick 
wall  of  a  prison.  His  virtues  are  those  of  a  paper- 
weight. Neither  his  daughter  nor  his  fortune  are 
likely  to  blow  away  w,hile  he  is  planted  on  them; 
and  there  his  merits  end. ' ' 

' '  What  a  dreadful  fellow, ' '  murmured  Hillary. 

"  And  the  worst  of  such  fellows  is  that  they 
are  infectious.  One  can  catch  grimness  and  hard- 
ness of  soul  just  as  one  can  catch  high  spirits  and 
courage.  Bah!  I  won't  think  of  him  any  more. 
I  '11  have  another  shot  at  this  thing." 

He  took  his  brush  again  and  faced  the  canvas. 
For  a  few  minutes  he  labored  painfully,  and  then 
turned  with  an  exclamation. 

"  The  memory  of  the  old  devil  has  got  into  my 
brush — "  he  began,  and  then  stopped. 
166 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

There  was  a  knock  upon  the  studio  door. 

"  Hullo !    A  patron  ?  "  said  Hillary. 

"  A  dun  more  probably,"  muttered  Lucas. 

He  opened  the  door  and  found  himself  con- 
fronting the  rubicund  countenance  and  imposing 
form  of  Heriot  Walkingshaw.  Over  the  shoulder 
of  this  apparition  he  looked  into  the  clear  eyes 
of  Frank.  They  were  trying  to  convey  a  caution 
to  use  whatever  tact  he  possessed;  but  the  artist 
was  too  dumbfounded  to  heed  them. 

"Well?  "  he  demanded. 


167 


CHAPTER  V 

"  GOOD-DAY,  Mr.  Vernon,"  said  his  guest. 

He  held  out  his  hand,  and  Lucas  mechanically 
shook  it. 

' '  May  we  come  in  ?  "  he  asked. 

' '  If  you  want  to  —  certainly, ' '  said  Lucas ;  and 
they  entered. 

"  A  fellow-artist,  I  presume?  "  inquired  Mr. 
Walkingshaw,  glancing  at  the  pale  and  pretty 
youth. 

Lucas  automatically  introduced  them. 

"  Very  happy  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Hillary,"  said 
the  W.S.  genially.  "  Let  me  introduce  my  son." 

Leaving  the  two  young  men  to  entertain  each 
other,  he  walked  aside  for  a  few  paces  with  his 
host.  His  countenance  was  composed  and  his  air 
dignified;  though,  as  he  thoughtlessly  took 
Vernon 's  arm  to  direct  his  partially  paralyzed 
movements,  the  artist  began  dimly  to  apprehend 
that  no  overt  outrage  was  premeditated. 

"  I  say,"  he  began  in  that  pleasantly  unconven- 
tional vein  which  appeared  to  afford  his  vigorous 
168 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

reflections  the  readiest  outlet,  "  this  must  seem  a 
bit  odd  and  so  on,  but  why  the  deuce  should  we 
go  on  quarreling  just  because  we  've  once  begun? 
We  're  above  that,  eh?  " 

"  I  have  no  wish  — "  began  the  artist. 

"  Exactly,  exactly,"  interrupted  his  visitor 
breezily ;  ' '  we  both  mean  the  same  thing,  so  that  's 
all  right.  Perhaps  we  misunderstood  each  other 
on  a  previous  occasion.  Of  course  perhaps  we 
didn't  —  we  may  be  a  couple  of  scoundrels  just 
as  we  imagined,  eh?  Ha,  ha!  Still,  let  's  assume 
there  was  a  little  misunderstanding.  Now  what 
have  you  been  painting?  " 

The  artist's  blue  eyes  looked  at  him  fixedly. 

"  I  am  addressing  the  same  Mr.  Heriot  Walk- 
ingshaw?  "  he  inquired  in  a  voice  compounded 
of  several  emotions. 

"  The  same,  my  dear  fellow  —  essentially  the 
same.  I  look  better  —  younger  —  fitter,  I  dare 
say,  eh?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Lucas,  still  eyeing  him  curiously, 
"you  do." 

"  But  you  see  I  am  still  Frank's  father." 

He  laughed  genially,  and  this  argument  at  last 
seemed  to  convince  the  young  man  that  he  was 
not  the  victim  of  a  strange  delusion, 
169 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  I  am  sorry  for  being  a  little  hasty — "  "he  be- 
gan, with  a  candid  smile. 

"  Not  at  all,"  interrupted  Mr.  Walkingshaw 
good-humoredly.  "  Don't  mention  it.  There  was 
a  lady  in  the  case ;  that  's  excuse  enough  for  any 
two  men  quarreling.  By  the  way,  my  daughter 
is  not  with  me,  but  she  would  no  doubt  wish  to 
have  her  kind  regards  —  that  is  to  say  —  well,  well, 
let  me  see  the  pictures. ' ' 

In  the  course  of  this  speech  the  affable  gentle- 
man had  been  reminded  by  the  senior  partner 
that  one  must  be  careful  not  to  commit  oneself 
rashly.  It  was  odd  how  often  he  required  these 
warnings  nowadays  —  and  how  frequently  they 
came  just  half  a  sentence  too  late. 

"  Brush  been  busy?  "  he  added  hastily. 

Lucas  pointed  to  a  dozen  or  more  canvases 
stacked  against  the  wall. 

"  Fairly,"  he  said. 

"May  I  look  at  them?  Oh,  don't  trouble  to 
take  them  off  the  floor.  I  '11  just  turn  them  over 
for  myself,  if  I  may." 

He  stooped  over  the  stack  and  moved  each  can- 
vas in  turn  till  he  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  its 
face.  With  this  ocular  demonstration  that  there 
actually  were  pictures  upon  all  of  them  he  seemed 
170 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

content,  for  he  turned  to  his  host  with  an  ap- 
proving smile. 

"  You  have  not  been  altogether  idle,  then?  " 

"Altogether  idle!  " 

Hillary  turned  at  the  exclamation. 

"  Poor  old  Lucas  is  working  himself  to  death," 
he  said,  with  his  gentle  and  insinuating  air. 

"  Indeed!  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Walkingshaw,  and 
surveyed  the  artist  with  increased  respect. 

"  Hillary  is  inclined  to  talk  — "  began  Lucas,  but 
was  silenced  by  a  ferocious  stamp  of  Frank's  boot. 

"  Hush,  you  idiot!  "  he  murmured. 

' '  No,  Lucas, ' '  said  his  friend  readily, ' '  I  am  not 
inclined  to  talk  as  a  rule,  but  I  cannot  bear  to 
hear  you  maligned.  I  never  saw  a  man  work  as 
you  do. ' ' 

"  Is  that  your  candid  opinion  of  our  friend?  " 
smiled  Mr.  Walkingshaw  with  a  pleasant  air. 

"  It  feebly  endeavors  to  express  my  opinion," 
replied  the  engaging  young  man.  "  He  paints  on 
an  average  one  picture  per  six  hours  of  daylight; 
and  the  most  astounding  thing  sir,  is  their  con- 
sistently high  merit. ' ' 

Lucas  looked  decidedly  uncomfortable. 

"  I  don't  sell  them,  unfortunately,"  he  blurted 
out. 

171 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

The  W.S.  turned  grave. 

"  None  of  them?  "  he  inquired. 

"  I  haven't  sold  much  lately." 

"  How's  that?  " 

"  The  public  is  not  yet  educated  up  to  him," 
said  Hillary.  "  But  between  ourselves,  Mr.  Walk- 
ingshaw,  if  I  had  a  thousand  pounds  at  this  mo- 
ment, I  should  put  it  all  in  Vernons ;  they  '11  be 
worth  five  thousand  in  ten  years'  time  at  a  modest 
estimate  —  a  very  modest  estimate. ' ' 

"  You  are  a  critic?  "  inquired  the  W.S. 

"  I  am  considered  so,"  answered  the  youth 
modestly. 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  turned  to  the  embarrassed 
artist. 

' '  At  the  same  time,  I  gather  that  whatever  your 
merits,  this  is  one  of  your  lean  years,  eh  ?  " 

"  Devilish,"  said  Lucas. 

"  That  must  be  discouraging?  " 

"  It  might  be  if  I  let  it." 

"  That  is  a  damned  good  answer,  Vernon,"  said 
Mr.  Walkingshaw  emphatically. 

Before  the  three  young  men  had  recovered  from 
the  sympathetic  surprise  which  this  reply  occa- 
sioned, he  had  planted  himself  in  front  of  the  un- 
finished picture  on  the  easel. 
172 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  What  's  this  you  're  doing?  A  wood?  Ah, 
yes,  I  recognize  the  trees.  Very  lifelike  indeed  — 
most  creditable.  What 's  the  price  of  it,  if  I  may 
ask?  " 

"  What  I  can  get,"  replied  Lucas,  with  a  rem- 
iniscence of  his  afternoon's  despair. 

' '  Still  the  same  unpractical  fellow !  ' '  smiled  Mr. 
Walkingshaw.  "  You  're  not  very  strong  on  fig- 
ures, eh?  " 

"  I  don't  meet  many,"  said  the  artist  candidly. 

"  Well,"  suggested  his  visitor  kindly,  "  what 
about  fifty  pounds  ?  ' ' 

"  I  'd  think  myself  devilish  lucky." 

"  May  I  have  it  at  that?  " 

"  You?  " 

"  It  isn't  booked  already,  I  trust?  " 

"N  — no." 

"  That  's  a  bargain,  then?  " 

Lucas's  eyes  were  again  fixed  in  a  strange  stare. 
Then  a  quick  change  of  expression  broke  over  his 
face. 

.  ' '  You  're  very  kind,   Mr.   Walkingshaw !  "  he 
said  warmly. 

"  Tuts,  tuts,  not  a  bit.     I  want  to  warm  up  my 
study  with  a  splash  of  color.     That  's  the  way  you 
artists  would  put  it.    Eh  ?  " 
173 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  A  splash  of  color  —  yes. ' ' 

"  You  see,  I  'm  getting  the  hang  of  your  lingo 
already,  Vernon.  And  now,  what  else  have  you 
got  for  sale?  What  do  you  recommend,  Hillary, 
eh?" 

That  young  man  displayed  a  sudden  aptitude 
for  business  which  had  never  characterized  his  own 
efforts  to  make  a  livelihood. 

"  As  a  work  of  art  likely  to  rise  enormously  in 
value,  I  conscientiously  recommend  that,"  he  said, 
pointing  to  another  canvas. 

"  A  nice  head,"  commented  Mr.  Walkingshaw. 
"  Sigh-toned  yet  spiritual,  one  might  term  it.  I 
like  the  way  the  eyes  seem  to  look  out  of  the 
paper  —  or  is  it  canvas  it  's  done  on  ?  ' ' 

"  Oh  —  er — I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Lucas, 
waking  suddenly  from  his  reverie ;  "I  —  I  '11  let 
you  have  that  thrown  in." 

"  Wits  a  wool-gathering,  Vernon?  "  smiled  his 
patron  indulgently.  ' '  But  I  dare  say  you  Ve  some 
excuse.  I  '11  take  the  picture  with  pleasure,  but 
I  insist  on  paying  for  it.  Let  us  put  this  at 
twenty-five  pounds." 

"  I  won't  let  you!  "  cried  Lucas.  "  I  give  it 
you  —  I  make  you  a  present  of  it.  You  Ve  been 
so  kind  already — " 

174 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

' '  Pooh !  Come,  come, ' '  interrupted  Mr.  Walk- 
ingshaw  kindly,  yet  firmly.  "  You  've  got  to  make 
your  way,  and  how  will  you  do  that  if  you  give 
away  your  —  fruits  of  the  brush  you  'd  call  them, 
I  suppose,  eh?  " 

The  artist  could  not  but  admit  the  force  of  this 
argument,  and  in  the  course  of  an  hour  had 
the  satisfaction  of  selling,  at  considerably  above 
his  usual  market  price,  no  fewer  than  four  of 
his  masterpieces;  while  Mr.  Walkingshaw,  on  his 
part,  became  the  fortunate  possessor  of  a  promis- 
ing but  unfinished  sylvan  scene,  the  portrait  of 
an  unknown  lady,  a  rainy  day  upon  the  Norfolk 
coast,  and  (what  he  considered  the  gem  of  the 
collection)  a  recognizable  panorama  of  Edinburgh 
from  the  north,  including  among  its  minor  details 
a  splash  of  red  ocher  which  he  felt  certain  was  the 
grand  stand  at  the  Scottish  Union's  football  field. 
This  recalled  the  sympathetic  widow,  and  gave 
the  picture  a  sentimental  as  well  as  an  artistic 
value.  He  could  have  wished  that  on  this,  as 
indeed  on  most  other  occasions,  the  artist  had 
paid  more  attention  to  verisimilitude  and  less  to 
mere  vague  harmonies  and  so  forth,  but  as  he  was 
assured  by  that  intelligent  young  Hillary  that  this 
method  was  all  the  Go  at  present,  and  that  his 
175 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

friend  Lucas  was  recognized  as  a  rising  Dab  at  it. 
That  at  least  is  how  he  retailed  the  argument 
afterwards. 

At  the  conclusion  of  these  arrangements  he  again 
drew  the  artist  aside. 

"  Would  you  like  a  check  immediately,"  he  in- 
quired, ' '  or  upon  delivery  of  the  pictures  ?  ' ' 

With  considerable  animation  Lucas  assured  him 
there  was  no  hurry  at  all. 

"  There  is  a  distinction  between  punctuality  and 
hurry,"  replied  Mr.  Walkingshaw.  "  I  recom- 
mend it  to  your  notice,  Vernon.  As  to  the  date  of 
payment,  I  suggest  by  the  first  post  after  the  de- 
livery of  the  pictures.  Does  that  satisfy  you?  " 

"  Quite,"  said  the  painter,  with  a  subdued  air. 

"  Strenuous  work,  patience,  and  the  cultivation 
of  business  habits  are  the  recommendations  I 
make  to  you,  my  dear  fellow  —  as  I  would  to  any 
other  young  man.  They  have  been,  if  I  may  say 
so,  the  secret  of  any  little  success  I  may  have 
achieved  myself.  Good-by,  Vernon,  good-by !  ' ' 

He  departed  thus  upon  a  note  of  austere  benevo- 
lence, leaving  behind  him  a  grateful  yet  chastened 
artist. 

"  Well,  Frank,"  said  he,  as  they  drove  back  to- 
176 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

gether,  ' '  that  young  fellow  has  managed  to  sell  one 
or  two  pictures,  I  'm  glad  to  find. ' ' 

His  eyes  twinkled  merrily  as  he  spoke,  but  be- 
fore his  son  had  time  to  reply  the  senior  partner 
spoke  again. 

"  I  only  hope  he  keeps  it  up,"  was  his  ad- 
dendum. 

For  a  young  man,  Frank  had  remarkable  dis- 
cretion (apart  from  his  one  lamentable  lapse).  He 
dutifully  agreed  with  this  sentiment,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded to  congratulate  his  parent  on  the  taste  with 
which  he  had  selected  his  pictures  and  the  ex- 
cellence of  the  investment  he  had  made.  Mr.  Walk- 
ingshaw  appeared  gratified  by  his  approval. 

"  I  don't  throw  my  money  away,  Frank,"  he 
said  complacently.  "  By  the  way,  what  's  the  cab 
fare?  " 

"  One  and  six,"  said  Frank. 

In  the  temporary  absence  of  the  senior  partner, 
Mr.  Walkingshaw  handed  the  man  half  a  crown, 
and  entered  the  hotel  humming  a  romantic  melody. 

As  he  crossed  the  hall  a  deferential  attendant 
approached  with  a  telegram. 

"  Hullo!  "  said  he,  "  a  wire.     I  wonder  who  the 

deuce  this  is  from." 

12  177 


CHAPTER  VI 

IT  is  a  lamentable  fact,  remarked  upon  even  by 
popular  politicians,  that  the  very  measures  which 
give  the  highest  satisfaction  to  some  people  pro- 
duce the  profoundest  depression  in  others.  And 
it  is  worth  adding  that  it  is  not  always  the  most 
original  reflections  which  have  procured  for  their 
authors  the  widest  reputation  (though,  if  one 
wanted  to  quote  an  authority  for  this  last  axiom, 
one  would  perhaps  turn  rather  to  the  popular  theo- 
logians). 

Of  the  truth  of  the  first  proposition,  that  worthy 
young  man,  Andrew  Walkingshaw,  was  an  un- 
happy example.  It  is  the  case  that  his  parent's 
disappearance  was  not  without  compensating  ad- 
vantages. He  was  spared  a  number  of  minor  an- 
noyances, which  of  late  had  been  the  undeserved 
accompaniment  of  his  blameless  life;  but  then, 
the  mystery  of  that  disappearance,  its  unortho- 
doxy,  its  appalling  suggestions  of  scandal!  He 
knew  now  what  it  must  feel  like  to  have  a  relative 
engaged  upon  fashionable  divorce  proceedings  or 
178 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

conspicuously  notorious  on  the  music-hall  stage. 
For,  despite  his  industry  in  circulating  a  circum- 
stantial account  of  the  business  that  had  called 
the  head  of  the  firm  so  suddenly  away,  he  thought 
he  observed  in  the  face  of  every  acquaintance  a 
kind  of  sly  and  knowing  expression.  "  Aha!  " 
every  one  of  them  seemed  to  say,  "  I  've  got  my 
knife  into  you,  Andrew!  " 

Beneath  the  roof  of  the  respectable  mansion  in 
which  he  had  hitherto  spent  a  life  unsullied  by 
mystery  or  romance  he  found,  to  his  horror,  that 
these  sinister  manifestations  were  even  more 
marked  than  in  his  club.  The  restored  happiness 
of  Jean  was  a  bad  sign,  very  ominous  under  the 
circumstances.  It  is  true  that  she  professed  com- 
plete ignorance  of  their  father's  movements,  but 
Andrew  was  too  astute  a  lawyer  to  pay  much 
attention  to  what  people  said;  it  was  how  they 
behaved  that  he  went  by;  and  Jean's  conduct 
was  suspicious.  "Why  should  she  be  smiling  while 
this  dark  cloud  hung  over  their  reputations?  The 
like  of  that  looked  very  bad.  He  resolved  to  probe 
the  matter  a  bit  further. 

"  There  's    some   one    wanting   to   know   Where 
Frank  has  got  to,"  he  began,  with  an  ingenuous 
air,  when  he  met  her  next. 
179 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  What  does  he  want  to  see  him  about?  "  in- 
quired Jean. 

' '  He  did  n  't  say,  but  I  thought  perhaps  you  had 
heard  Frank  mention  where  he  was  going.  Did 
you  by  any  chance?  " 

His  air  remained  as  ingenuous  as  ever,  but  Jean 
looked  at  him  doubtfully.  For  a  moment  she 
hesitated. 

"  Yes,"  shq  said. 

"  Oh,  where  was  it?  " 

"  Of  course  I  don't  know  whether  he  has  gone 
there." 

"  The  chances  are  he  has,"  said  Andrew. 
"  What  was  his  intention?  " 

"  Who  was  the  man  that  wanted  to  know?  " 

Andrew  was  particularly  scrupulous  never  to  de- 
viate far  from  the  high  road  of  truth.  Of  course 
there  were  footpaths  alongside  that  led  to  the 
same  place,  and  gave  one  a  certain  amount  of 
latitude;  but  beyond  these  no  moral  or  respectable 
man  should  venture.  Supposing  one  were  caught 
in  an  adjoining  field  cutting  a  corner ! 

"  That  's  neither  here  nor  there,"  he  said 
evasively. 

"  Was  there  really  anybody  at  all  asking  for 
him,  or  is  the  '  some  one  '  yourself?  " 
180 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Her  brother  looked  severe. 

"  Look  here,  Jean,"  said  he,  "  you  know  where 
he  has  gone  —  I  've  got  that  much  out  of  you ; 
and  it  's  your  duty  to  tell  me. ' ' 

Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  him  steadily. 

"  You  think  Frank  and  father  have  gone  off  to- 
gether? " 

"  I  know  nothing  about  that." 

"  And  that  's  why  you  are  suddenly  so  curious 
about  Frank?  " 

He  regarded  her  in  injured  silence;  but  instead 
of  appearing  affected  by  his  unspoken  reproach, 
she  continued  with  an  air  of  knowing  both  his 
intentions  and  her  own. 

"  If  father  wanted  you  to  know  he  would  have 
told  you  himself." 

"  It  is  for  his  own  sake  I  want  to  find  out." 

"  Then  you  admit  you  were  trying  to  find  out 
about  father!  What  benefit  would  it  be  to  him  if 
you  knew  ?  ' ' 

"  It  is  most  inconvenient  at  the  office  not  know- 
ing his  address." 

"If  it  really  were  very  inconvenient,  father 
would  be  certain  to  think  of  that  and  send  you 
his  address  himself." 

"  He  has  not  thought  of  it." 
181 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Well  then,  there  can't  be  any  great  incon- 
venience. ' ' 

Not  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  Andrew  wished 
that  all  humanity  belonged  to  his  own  sensible, 
candid,  trustworthy  sex. 

"  I  tell  you  there  is,"  he  insisted. 

"  I  trust  father  implicitly,"  she  replied. 

"  Oh,  you  think  his  recent  behavior  has  been  the 
kind  of  thing  to  inspire  confidence?  " 

' '  It  has  in  me !  "  she  answered  enthusiastically. 

"  You  have  a  high  opinion  of  his  sense,"  he 
sneered. 

"  A  great  deal  higher  than  I  have  of  anybody 
else's  in  the  world  —  in  Edinburgh,  anyhow!  "  she 
retorted,  and  with  her  chin  held  high  broke  off 
the  conference. 

This  was  sufficiently  exasperating,  but  it  was 
not  the  worst  that  treacherous  sex  could  do.  The 
widow's  demeanor  was  a  hundred  times  more 
menacing.  She  was  so  motherly  towards  Jean,  so 
sisterly  towards  his  unfortunate  aunt,  so  skittishly 
condescending  towards  himself,  that  his  previous 
suspicions  of  her  were  sunshiny  compared  with 
the  dark  convictions  that  lay  heavier  upon  him 
each  day.  Her  black  eyes  danced  mockingly 
whenever  he  looked  into  them;  she  seemed  always 
182 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

to  be  hugging  the  most  delicious  secret.  Andrew 
doubted  she  had  hugged  more  than  a  secret  in  this 
house. 

It  was  a  further  confirmation  of  her  perfidy 
that  ever  since  his  father's  flight  she  had  made  a 
point  of  being  down  to  breakfast  before  him,  so 
that  he  could  never  see  what  letters  she  received. 
That  was  damning  evidence  against  her  —  dam- 
nable evidence,  in  fact,  for  it  argued  a  degree  both 
of  intelligence  and  energy  for  which  he  had  not 
given  her  credit.  Like  his  father  before  him,  he 
was  discovering  that  there  was  more  up  this 
sparkling  lady's  sleeve  than  met  the  eye. 

A  few  mornings  after  the  disappearance  he 
thought  he  had  caught  her.  When  he  entered  the 
room  she  was  reading  a  letter.  He  snapped  up 
the  chance  instantly. 

"  Is  that  my  father's  writing?  "  he  inquired, 
dissimulating  his  acuteness  under  an  easy  con- 
versational air. 

"  It  's  a  little  like  it,"  she  replied,  with  an 
amiable  smile,  slipping  the  letter  into  its  envelop 
and  turning  that  face  downwards  on  the  table. 

The  W.S.  began  to  respect  as  much  as  he 
detested  her.  All  through  breakfast  she  rippled 
with  the  happiest  smiles  and  the  gayest  conversa- 
183 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

tion.     At  the  end,  his  detestation  had  again  got 
its  head  in  front  of  his  respect. 

But  the  following  morning  he  himself  received  a 
letter  which  threw  the  widow  and  her  smiles  so 
completely  into  the  background  that  for  the  next 
forty-eight  hours  he  was  scarcely  aware  of  her 
existence.  It  ran  thus : 

"  250  BURY  STREET, 

ST.  JAMES',  S.W. 

' '  MY  DEAR  ANDREW, —  It  is  with  the  greatest 
concern  and  regret  that  I  feel  myself  compelled  to 
write  to  you  on  the  subject  of  my  old  friend,  your 
poor  father.  No  doubt  you  will  be  able  to  judge 
better  than  myself  how  far  he  is  responsible  for 
his  conduct,  and  whether  or  not  there  is  any 
serious  need  for  anxiety;  but  I  consider  I  should 
be  doing  less  than  my  duty  if  I  failed  to  inform 
you  of  the  risks  to  his  health  and  his  reputation 
which  he  is  running  at  present.  I  spent  last  night 
with  him;  in  fact,  it  was  only  in  the  small  hours 
of  this  morning  that  I  left  him  still  dancing  at 
the  Covent  Garden  Fancy  Ball.  I  assure  you  I 
am  at  a  loss  how  to  express  my  consternation  and 
alarm  at  his  peculiar  behavior.  Are  you  aware 
that  he  has  taken  to  dyeing  his  hair  and  doctoring 
his  face,  so  that  at  first  sight  one  might  almost 
mistake  him  for  a  much  younger  man  than  we 
know  him  to  be  ?  The  extravagance  of  his  language 
184 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

and  restlessness  of  his  movements  lends  color  to 
the  suspicion  that  he  is  a  little  wrong  in  his  head. 
I  do  not  wish  to  alarm  you  unnecessarily,  but  if 
you  had  seen  him  galloping  about  in  a  domino 
and  a  false  nose  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  I 
cannot  help  thinking  you  would  share  my  concern. 
He  seems  also  to  have  lost  all  his  old  caution  about 
money  matters.  Are  you  aware  that  he  is  stopping 
at  the  Hotel  Gigantique,  of  all  places,  and  doing 
himself  and  your  brother  Frank  like  a  couple  of 
millionaires  ?  I  cannot  help  considering  this  a  very 
remarkable  symptom. 

"  I  myself  am  in  bed  to-day,  so  pray  forgive  the 
handwriting. —  With  kind  regards  to  you  all,  be- 
lieve me,  yours  sincerely, 

"  CHARLES  MUNRO." 

The  firmament  seemed  to  darken  as  though  a 
thunderstorm  brooded  over  the  devoted  house. 
Already  in  fancy  Andrew  could  hear  the  first 
crashings  and  flashes  of  the  coming  scandal.  His 
appetite  vanished,  his  coffee  grew  cold,  and  pres- 
ently he  rose  and  silently  left  the  room.  Yet  the 
man  of  superior  mental  equipment  rarely  fails  to 
extract  some  crumbs  of  consolation  out  of  the 
direst  disaster.  Andrew  extracted  his  by  sum- 
moning Jean  before  he  started  for  the  office  and 
handing  her  the  terrible  letter.  As  he  watched 
185 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

her  read  it,  the  phrase  shaped  by  his  countenance 
might  be  read  without  the  aid  of  any  signal-book  — 

"  What  did  I  tell  you?  " 

Certainly  there  was  a  well-earned  morsel  of  sat- 
isfaction to  be  derived  from  her  startled  eyes  and 
the  little  catches  in  her  breath.  She  could  believe 
him  now!  When  she  spoke  at  last  her  first  words 
were  exceedingly  gratifying. 

"  What  a  horrid  old  man  he  must  be!  " 

He  looked  suitably  reproachful. 

' '  That  is  strong  language  to  use  of  your  father. ' ' 

Her  eyes  blazed. 

"  I  am  talking  of  Colonel  Munro!  The  idea  of 
giving  father  away  like  that.  It  's  one  of  the  very 
meanest  things  I  ever  heard  of!  I  sincerely  hope 
he  may  be  in  bed  for  a  month. ' ' 

She  swept  away,  and  her  brother  was  left  to 
brood  gloomily  upon  the  selfish  perversity  that  thus 
actually  defrauded  him  of  his  legitimate  triumph. 


186 


CHAPTER  VII 

"  WELL,"  said  Andrew,  "  what  is  to  be  done?  " 

The  problem  was  undoubtedly  delicate.  He  had 
paid  it  the  compliment  of  summoning  his  two 
sensible  married  sisters  to  aid  him  with  their  coun- 
sel ;  and  even  they,  though  not  lacking  in  decision  as 
a  rule,  regarded  first  the  Colonel's  letter  and  then 
their  brother  with  disturbed  and  doubtful  eyes. 
He  gave  them  no  hint  of  the  dreadful  and  disrep- 
utable change  in  their  father's  very  being;  that 
was  positively  too  shocking  to  confide  even  to  a  sis- 
ter (besides,  they  wouldn't  have  believed  him), 
but  he  considered  that  the  essentials  of  the  problem 
were  now  fairly  grasped  by  them  both,  and  he  was 
pleased  to  find  a  sympathetic  unanimity  of  horror. 

"  He  can't  be  allowed  to  go  on  disgracing  him- 
self in  London ;  that  much  is  perfectly  clear, ' '  said 
Mrs.  Ramornie. 

"  Not  to  speak  of  ruining  us  all,"  added  Andrew. 

"  Can  you  not  go  and  fetch  him  home?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Donaldson. 

Andrew  pursed  his  lips. 
187 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

' '  In  the  first  place,  would  he  come  ?  You  know 
how  infernally  obstinate  he  can  be.  In  the  second 
place,  do  we  want  him  making  an  exhibition  of 
himself  here?  " 

"  He  would  not  have  quite  the  opportunities 
here." 

' '  Not  for  spending  money,  I  admit ;  but  we  don 't 
want  him  taking  the  chair  and  making  speeches 
at  the  W.S.  dinner  to-morrow  night  in  his  present 
condition. ' ' 

"  Will  he  not  remember  and  come  back  for  it, 
anyhow?  "  suggested  Mrs.  Ramornie. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  He  has  never  spoken  about  it  for  a  long  while. 
I  'm  practically  positive  he  has  forgotten." 

' '  But  do  you  not  need  him  at  the  office  ?  ' '  asked 
Mrs.  Donaldson. 

"  Need  him!  " 

"  I  can  only  tell  you,"  she  replied,  "  that  Hec- 
tor says  he  gets  through  business  in  a  most  surpris- 
ing way,  for  all  his  eccentricity. ' ' 

"  Very  surprising,"  he  retorted  sarcastically. 

"  Oh,"  she  said  airily,  "  I  know  you  fancy  your- 
self, but  Hector  declares  father  is  the  man  for  his 
money  nowadays." 

Andrew's  cheeks  drooped  gloomily.  He  had 
188 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

heard  hints  of  this  preposterous  opinion  once  or 
twice  lately,  and  they  disgusted  his  sense  of  fitness. 
How  could  a  man  possibly  be  good  at  business  if 
he  rushed  through  it  like  a  steam-engine?  Sup- 
posing one  of  the  telegraph  posts  at  the  side  wanted 
a  touch  of  tar,  how  could  you  notice  it  going  at 
that  pace !  But  what  was  the  use  in  arguing  with 
a  woman  ? 

"  Well,  I  can  only  tell  you  this,"  he  snapped: 
"  there  's  Madge  Dunbar  waiting  for  him  here  with 
her  mouth  open." 

The  two  sisters  immediately  relinquished  all  idea 
of  bringing  him  home. 

"  But  if  we  let  him  stay  in  London,  he  '11  be 
bankrupt  in  a  month !  ' '  cried  Andrew  desperately. 
"  What  the  deuce  is  to  be  done?  " 

They  pondered  for  a  few  minutes  in  silence,  and 
then  Mrs.  Ramornie  exclaimed,  with  an  inspired 
air  — 

' '  He  must  go  abroad !  ' ' 

"  And  how  are  you  going  to  manage  that?  "  in- 
quired Andrew. 

"  You  've  got  to  go  and  take  him." 

' '  Me !  "he  cried.  ' '  But  —  but,  dash  it,  Maggie, 
he  '11  never  go  with  me." 

"  You  will  have  to  dissemble  a  little,  of  course; 
189 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

pretend  you  want  a  holiday  too,  and  take  him  to  — 
to,  well,  we  must  look  up  some  inexpensive  French 
watering-place. ' ' 

Gertrude  smiled  her  approval. 

"  That  's  the  idea,  Andrew!  Go  up  in  a  white 
felt  hat,  and  tell  him  you  know  of  a  naughty  little 
place  in  France  where  you  can  get  dancing.  He  '11 
jump  at  it!  " 

Their  brother  regarded  them  with  ever-increas- 
ing gloom. 

' '  That  kind  of  thing  is  not  in  my  line  —  '  he 
began ;  but  once  more  he  was  impressed  with  the 
disadvantages  of  a  bi-sexual  world.  The  two  ladies 
seemed  positively  incapable  of  grasping  his  objec- 
tions, either  to  wearing  a  Homburg  hat  or  recom- 
mending a  naughty  French  watering-place. 

"  I  don't  insist  on  its  being  white;  grey  will 
do,"  said  Mrs.  Donaldson. 

"  Of  course,  I  should  never  dream  of  taking  him 
to  a  really  disreputable  place,"  said  Mrs.  Ra- 
mornie ;  ' '  you  only  want  a  Casino  and  a  little 
promenading,  and  so  on." 

"  It  will  be  great  fun,  Andrew!  " 

"  It  is  your  duty,  Andrew." 

"  Yes,  yes;  of  course  we  know  you  are  an  Elder 
190 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

of  the  Kirk  and  all  the  rest  of  it ;  but  on  an  occa- 
sion, don't  you  know,  Andrew!  " 

"  What  alternative  do  you  suggest,  Andrew?  " 

Yet  he  was  still  hanging  fire  when  Jean  entered. 
It  had  been  tacitly  understood  that  her  presence 
was  not  required  at  the  council  of  war,  and  the 
marked  silence  which  followed  her  entry  might  rea- 
sonably have  warned  her  that  matters  were  being 
discussed  too  complicated  for  young  unmarried 
girls.  Yet  she  closed  the  door  behind  her  and  came 
forward  with  a  quietly  resolute  air. 

"  I  've  only  just  heard  you  were  here, ' '  she  said. 
"  You  are  talking  about  father,  I  suppose." 

"  We  are,"  replied  Mrs.  Ramornie  briefly. 

Jean  sat  down. 

' '  What  have  you  decided  ?  ' '  she  asked. 

"  We  have  decided  he  should  go  abroad  with 
Andrew  for  a  little  change. ' ' 

"  Why?  " 

"  Do  you  need  to  ask  why,  Jean?  Surely  you 
don't  want  him  to  go  on  making  a  fool  of  himself 
in  London?  " 

"  I  don't  see  why  he  shouldn't  go  to  a  dance 
occasionally  if  he  wants  to. ' ' 

"Go  to  a  dance!  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Donaldson. 
191 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

' '  My  dear  Jean !  do  you  suppose  this  was  an  ordi- 
nary— ' 

"  Hush,  Gertrude,"  said  their  brother  austerely. 

"  Anyhow,"  said  Mrs.  Ramornie,  "it  is  quite 
settled  that  he  must  leave  London  at  allxcosts,  and 
that  it  is  inadvisable  he  should  return  to  Edin- 
burgh at  present. ' ' 

"  But  Aunt  Mary  was  only  saying  to-day  that 
he  has  to  preside  at  a  dinner  to-morrow  night. ' ' 

"  Oh,  he  '11  forget  all  about  that,"  said  Gertrude, 
"  and,  of  course,  we  don't  mean  to  remind  him." 

"  Why  not?  " 

"  Because  he  is  not  to  be  trusted  at  present," 
said  Andrew. 

A  quick  flush  irradiated  Jean's  clear  face. 

"  He  is  to  be  trusted.  He  is  to  be  trusted  far 
more  than  ever  before  in  his  life !  ' ' 

The  three  counselors  exchanged  glances. 

"  We  know  better  than  you  do,"  said  Mrs. 
Ramornie  severely. 

But  Jean  was  not  easily  to  be  quelled. 

"  I  think  it  will  be  a  perfect  shame  if  you  allow 
father  to  forget  his  engagement, ' '  she  protested. 

Her  eldest  sister's  face  grew  more  like  Andrew's 
than  ever. 

"  He  must  not  come  home  at  present,  and  we 
192 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

trust  that  Andrew  will  do  his  duty  and  not  permit 
him  to  stay  in  London." 

' '  Andrew !  ' '  exclaimed  Jean.  ' '  How  can  he 
prevent  him  ?  ' ' 

Their  brother  hung  back  no  longer. 

"  I  shall  go  up  to  London  to-morrow  morning," 
he  announced. 

"  Splendid!  "  cried  Gertrude. 

He  looked  at  her  coldly. 

"  I  do  not  propose  to  do  anything  ridiculous. 
If  I  can  get  him  to  go  to  some  place  in  the  south  of 
England  and  stop  for  a  month  or  two,  that  will  be 
quite  sufficient;  and  I  do  not  propose,  either,  to 
wear  any  other  clothes  than  what  I  've  got  at 
present. ' ' 

Having  thus  asserted  his  independence  of  con- 
duct and  apparel,  he  turned  again  to  Jean. 

"  That  is  what  we  have  decided,"  he  said. 

She  jumped  up,  her  lip  quivering  a  little.  Then 
she  controlled  herself,  and  as  she  left  ths  room 
only  said  quietly  — 

"  Thank  you  for  teUing  me." 

The  council  was  then  able  to  conclude  its  delib- 
erations without  further  interruption. 


193 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AFTER  dinner  that  night,  Andrew  found  Mrs. 
Dunbar  alone  in  the  drawing-room,  and  immedi- 
ately turned  to  withdraw. 

"  Are  you  not  going  to  have  coffee,  Andrew?  " 
she  asked. 

There  was  something  different  in  her  manner; 
something  almost  nervous;  something  apparently 
less  hostile.  Andrew  glanced  at  her  suspiciously. 
What  new  move  in  her  diabolical  game  did  this 
signify  ? 

"  I  Ve  got  letters  to  write,"  he  answered  coldly, 
and  shut  the  door  decisively  behind  him. 

The  fair  widow  sighed,  and  again  picked  up  a 
letter  lying  in  her  lap  and  looked  at  it  unhappily. 
She  had  kept  her  word  and  written  to  Charlie 
Munro,  and  unfortunately  Heriot  had  forgotten  to 
warn  him  that  his  answer  to  any  such  communica- 
tion must  be  exceedingly  discreet.  No  wonder  she 
seemed  distressed. 

Naturally,  the  junior  partner  gave  his  fair 
enemy  no  information  regarding  his  movements. 
194 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

She  saw  him  leave  in  the  morning  as  usual,  ap- 
parently to  go  to  the  office,  and  it  was  not  till  some 
time  later  that  she  learned  from  his  aunt  of  his 
departure  for  London.  Curiously  enough,  she 
seemed  rather  pleased  than  otherwise  by  this  move. 
Her  correspondence  with  Colonel  Munro  had  left 
the  most  unsettling  effects. 

Meanwhile,  Andrew  was  nearing  London.  He 
was  pleased  to  find  his  train  arrive  upon  the  stroke 
of  6:15,  for  he  valued  punctuality  above  every- 
thing except  his  reputation.  From  the  station  he 
drove  to  the  large  political  club  where  he  always 
put  up,  ate  a  dinner  that  exactly  accorded  with  his 
station  in  life,  and  took  a  horse  bus  to  the  Hotel 
Gigantique.  (Motor  buses  were  only  just  begin- 
ning to  be  seen  upon  the  streets  at  that  time,  and  he 
was  always  suspicious  of  noisy  innovations. ) 

By  the  merest  chance,  the  first  person  he  saw 
in  the  hall  of  the  hotel  was  Frank,  attired  in  over- 
coat and  opera  hat,  and  evidently  bound  for  some 
extravagant  expedition,  the  cost  of  which  would  no 
doubt  be  defrayed  by  his  parent  to  the  detriment  of 
his  brother's  and  sisters'  patrimony. 

"  Well,  Frank,"  said  the  elder  brother, 
"  where  's  your  father?  " 

The  "  your  "  was  a  subtle  indication  of  the 
195 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

depth  to  which  Mr.  Walkingshaw  had  fallen  in  the 
estimation  of  the  right-minded. 

"  Out  of  town,"  said  Frank  briefly. 

"  Where  'she  gone?  " 

Frank  shook  his  head. 

"  You  can  ask  at  the  office,"  he  suggested. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  don't  know?  " 

* '  I  mean  to  say  it  's  none  of  my  business. ' ' 

Andrew  had  begun  the  conversation  in  a  decid- 
edly hectoring  manner.  He  now  began  to  alter  his 
key  a  little. 

"  Look  here,  Frank,  things  are  pretty  serious. 
We  've  got  to  stop  this  tomfoolery. ' ' 

The  other  interrupted  him. 

"  What  tomfoolery  ?  " 

"  Making  an  exhibition  of  himself  all  over  Lon- 
don, and  wasting  his  money  at  a  place  like  this. 
You  know  perfectly  well  what  I  mean. ' ' 

"  I  only  know  that  he  's  in  the  best  form  I  've 
ever  seen  him  in  my  life.  He  's  just  a  devilish 
kind  and  sporting  guv 'nor,  that  's  what  he  is." 

' '  If  you  mean  going  about  the  most  disreputable 
places  in  London  in  a  half-intoxicated  condi- 
tion—" 

' '  That  's  a  lie,  anyhow, ' '  said  Frank  calmly,  yet 
with  a  glint  in  his  eye. 

196 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

His  brother  recoiled  a  pace,  but  his  manner  grew 
none  the  less  uncompromising. 

' '  I  suppose  you  '11  say  he  's  moving  in  fine  high- 
class  society,  do  you?  " 

"  It  's  a  lot  better  than  anything  he  ever  found 
in  his  office." 

' '  Thank  you, ' '  replied  the  junior  partner ;  ' '  and 
now  perhaps  you  '11  tell  me  when  he  's  expected 
back?  " 

' '  Day  or  two, ' '  said  Frank  shortly. 

Andrew  pondered  for  a  moment. 

"  Oh?  "  he  remarked  at  length,  and  without  so 
much  as  a  good-night  he  turned  on  his  heel  and 
walked  out  of  the  hotel. 

Frank's  conscience  harassed  him  for  a  long  time 
after  this  interview.  He  wished  he  could  be  quite 
certain  that  his  manner  towards  his  brother  was 
entirely  the  result  of  Andrew's  disagreeable  refer- 
ences to  their  father.  He  would  be  the  most  ill- 
conditioned  sweep  unkicked,  the  most  dishonorable 
sneaking  blackguard,  if  by  any  chance  he  had  al- 
lowed his  luckless  passion  to  prejudice  him!  He 
began  to  wish  he  were  back  in  India  again.  "Was 
this  beastly  furlough  never  coming  to  an  end? 
And  so  he  drove  off  in  his  hansom,  alternately  sigh- 
ing and  cursing  himself,  to  watch  what  he  had 
197 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

selected  from  the  pictures  in  the  illustrated  papers 
as  the  most  sentimental  drama  in  town. 

The  advantage  of  living  a  well-regulated  life 
was  never  better  illustrated  than  in  the  person  of 
his  brother  Andrew.  No  qualms  of  conscience  an- 
noyed him  as  he  drove  back  economically  in  his 
bus.  He  knew  that  he  was  right,  and  that  people 
who  violated  his  standards,  and  disagreed  with  him 
impertinently  were  wrong;  and  secure  in  that 
knowledge,  he  was  enabled  to  hug  against  his  out- 
raged feelings  the  warm  consolation  of  a  grievance. 
All  through  his  life  this  form  of  moral  hot-water 
bottle  had  kept  Andrew  snug  during  many  a  pain- 
ful night.  It  is  worth  being  consistently  righteous 
for  the  mere  privilege  of  possessing  this  invalu- 
able perquisite. 

He  decided  to  wait  in  London  for  twenty-four 
hours  longer  on  the  chance  of  his  father  returning, 
and  so  it  happened  that  he  found  himself  in  his 
club  reading-room  on  the  following  afternoon  at 
the  hour  when  the  Scotsman  appeared  to  cheer  the 
exiles  from  the  north.  He  secured  it  at  once,  and 
with  a  consoling  sense  of  homeliness  proceeded  to 
turn  its  familiar  pages.  All  at  once  he  was  gal- 
yanized  into  the  rigidity  of  a  fire-iron  — 
198 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Writers  to  the  Signets'  Annual  Dinner.     Re- 
markable speech  by  Mr.  Heriot  Walkingshaw. " 

It  was  a  few  minutes  before  he  summoned  up 
his  courage  to  read  any  further. 

"  Mr.  Walkingshaw  began  by  remarking  that 
it  was  by  the  merest  chance  he  was  present  among 
them  to-night.  He  had  been  so  engrossed  by  the 
attractions  of  London  (laughter) — he  did  not 
mean  what  they  meant  (renewed  laughter)  — that 
he  had  positively  forgotten  all  about  his  duty  to 
his  convivial  fellow-practitioners  till  he  was  re- 
minded by  a  telegram  from  a  young  lady  (a  laugh). 
He  alluded  to  his  daughter  (cheers).  Several 
morals  might  be  drawn  from  this  little  incident. 
The  advantages  of  the  sixpenny  telegram  and  the 
even  greater  advantages  of  getting  on  the  right  side 
of  the  fair  sex  (cheers  and  laughter) ;  these  were 
two  morals,  but  what  he  proposed  to  bring  more 
particularly  under  their  notice  to-night  was  this: 
that  if  a  respectable  old  chap  like  himself  could  en- 
joy himself  so  thoroughly  as  to  forget  his  duty, 
there  was  hope  even  for  the  oldest  of  them  (slight 
applause).  What  satisfaction  was  it  to  become 
prosperous  and  respected  if  at  the  same  time  one 
became  a  bugbear  to  one's  children  and  a  bore  to 
one's  acquaintances?  Supposing  that  one  of  the 
old  and  valued  friends  he  saw  before  him  could 
199 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

suddenly  see  himself  with  the  eyes  of  a  young  man 
of  forty,  or  better  still  of  thirty,  what  would  he 
think  of  himself?  —  He  would  desire  to  drive  a 
pin  through  the  old  fossil's  trousers  and  wake  him 
up!  (a  laugh).  He  would  realize  he  was  out  of 
touch  with  life ;  that  he  was  neglecting  a  dozen 
opportunities  a  day  for  giving  pleasure  to  people 
who  were  still  young  enough  to  enjoy  themselves, 
and  thereby  bucking  himself  up  too.  Mr.  Walk- 
ingshaw  begged  his  audience,  particularly  that 
portion  of  it  over  fifty,  to  beware  of  the  fatal  habit 
of  growing  old.  How  was  this  to  be  avoided? 
Well,  everybody  could  not  hope  to  have  his  own 
good  fortune,  but  he  could  give  them  a  few  tips. 
In  the  first  place,  they  should  make  a  point  of 
falling  in  love  at  least  twice  a  year  (laughter). 
The  old  duffer  who  ceased  to  fall  in  love  was 
doomed.  Then,  while  leading  a  strictly  abstemi- 
ous life  on  six  days  of  the  week,  they  should  let 
themselves  go  a  bit  on  the  seventh;  and  when  in 
that  condition  (a  laugh)  — he  did  not  mean  '  blind 
f u ', '  but  merely  a  little  the  happier  for  it  —  while 
in  that  condition  they  should  unlock  their  cash 
boxes  and  distribute  a  substantial  sum  among  the 
poor  and  deserving  young.  Furthermore,  they 
should  make  a  point  of  mixing  at  least  twice  a 
week  in  fresh  society  —  Bohemians,  sportsmen,  and 
the  like.  Also,  nothing  should  be  allowed  to  de- 
generate into  a  habit,  especially  churchgoing — " 
200 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Andrew  read  no  further.  Half  an  hour  later  he 
was  driving  for  King's  Cross  as  fast  as  a  cab 
could  take  him. 


201 


CHAPTER  IX 

IT  was  characteristic  of  Andrew's  serviceable 
and  soundly  unimaginative  intellect  that  it  should 
decline  to  grasp  such  a  phenomenon  as  a  father 
who  was  rapidly  approaching  his  own  age.  It  ac- 
cepted the  fact,  since  the  evidence  was  now  becom- 
ing overwhelming,  but  it  firmly  refused  to  go  an 
inch  beyond  this  concession.  If  one  were  seriously 
to  regard  his  conduct  as  the  natural  result  of  youth 
and  high  spirits,  there  would  be  in  a  kind  of  way 
an  excuse  for  it;  and  once  you  started  that  line 
of  reasoning,  where  were  you  ?  You  would  be  par- 
doning beggars  because  they  were  hungry,  and 
bankrupts  because  they  had  no"  money,  and  all 
kinds  of  things.  Andrew's  conceptions  of  justice 
were  not  to  be  tampered  with  like  that.  It  there- 
fore followed  (since  he  was  extremely  logical)  that 
his  parent  must  be  looked  upon  simply  as  an  err- 
ing and  impenitent  man.  His  age  did  not  matter. 
That  was  his  business.  His  son's  was  to  see  that, 
whether  Mr.  Heriot  Walkingshaw  professed  to  be 
eighty  or  eighteen,  he  conducted  himself  in  a  man- 
202 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

ner  befitting  the  head  of  so  respectable  a  family 
and  firm. 

The  only  defect  in  this  pre-eminently  honest 
way  of  regarding  the  matter  was  that  it  handi- 
capped the  junior  partner  when  it  came  to  forecast- 
ing his  parent's  probable  movements.  If  you  per- 
sist in  basing  your  calculations  on  the  assumption 
that  a  bird  ought  to  be  too  old  to  fly,  when  it  actu- 
ally is  n  't,  you  will  probably  be  wrong  in  expecting 
to  find  it  always  in  your  garden. 

Andrew  let  himself  into  the  house  about  the  hour 
of  8 :30  a.  m.,  and  almost  fell  into  the  arms  of  the 
agitated  widow. 

"  Have  you  found  him?  Where  is  he?  What 
has  happened?  "  she  implored  him. 

It  was  another  of  Andrew's  wholesome  peculi- 
arities that,  having  once  distrusted  a  person,  his 
suspicions  could  hardly  be  allayed,  even  by  evi- 
dence that  would  have  satisfied  a  hypochondriacal 
ex-detective.  This  safeguard  against  deception  ef- 
fectually preserved  him  from  the  dangerous  ex- 
tremes both  of  indigence  and  greatness.  He 
looked  upon  his  second  cousin  with  a  shocked  and 
doubtful  eye.  She  had  come  very  close.  Did  she 
expect  him  to  toy  with  her? 

"  Have  I  found  who?  "  he  inquired  coldly. 
203 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

11  Heriot!  " 

"  If  you  mean  my  father,  I  did  not  find  him." 

He  looked  at  her  sarcastically,  and  added,  "  He 
didn't  mention  that  himself,  of  course?  " 

4 '  I  have  n  't  seen  him !  ' '  she  almost  shouted. 

He  looked  thoroughly  startled  now. 

"  Hasn't  he  been  here?  " 

"  He  was  only  in  the  house  for  an  hour.  That 
was  the  day  before  yesterday.  He  didn't  let  me 
know  he  was  here  —  he  did  n 't  let  his  sister  know 
—  nobody  knew  but  Jean !  ' ' 

"  Where  was  he  staying?  " 

"At  an  hotel." 

"An  hotel!"'  exclaimed  Andrew  in  horror. 
"  Going  to  all  that  expense,  with  his  house  stand- 
ing waiting  for  him?  That  beats  everything  I  've 
heard  yet !  Is  he  there  still?  " 

"  No,  no,  he  's  not!  "  she  cried,  almost  sobbing. 
"  He  's  gone  back  to  London." 

"  Gone  back  to  London!  " 

"  And  Jean  's  gone  with  him!  " 

"  Jean!  Has  he  not  got  enough  bills  to  pay  at 
that  infernal  millionaire 's  hotel  without  hers  ?  ' ' 

"  I  don't  know,"  wailed  the  lady.     "  I  don't 
understand  him.     I  thought  he  cared  for  me  —  and 
he  didn't  even  let  me  know  he  was  here!  " 
204 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

In  spite  of  his  anger  with  his  erring  parent,  he 
was  sufficiently  master  of  his  emotions  to  feel  a 
lively  concern  at  all  this  speech  suggested. 

"  I  must  get  my  breakfast,"  he  observed  icily, 
and  was  starting  for  the  dining-room. 

She  collected  herself  instantly. 

"  Andrew!  "  she  said,  "  you  've  got  to  go  after 
him." 

He  stared  at  her,  first  in  extreme  surprise,  then 
with  an  exceedingly  sophisticated  smile. 

' '  Thank  you,  I  've  got  my  business  to  attend  to. ' ' 

' '  You  can  go  to  the  office  first.  There  's  a  train 
about  two." 

"  I  '11  not  be  on  it, ' '  he  replied. 

' '  Some  one  's  got  to  go  and  fetch  him  back. ' ' 

"  It  won't  be  me." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  with  an  expres- 
sion which  did  not  interest  him.  He  neither  pro- 
fessed to  understand  women  nor  to  think  it  worth 
while  trying. 

"  Very  well,"  she  answered. 

They  went  in  to  breakfast,  but  throughout  the 
meal  she  never  referred  to  Heriot  again.  Andrew 
flattered  himself  he  had  choked  her  off  that 
subject 


205 


CHAPTER  X 

WHILE  Andrew  was  still  patiently  waiting  in 
London,  a  south-bound  express  swung  down  the 
long  slope  from  Shap ;  past  Oxenholme,  past  Miln- 
thorpe,  past  Carnforth,  out  into  the  green  levels  of 
Lancashire.  In  one  corner  of  a  first-class  carriage 
sat  Jean  Walkingshaw,  her  eyes  smiling  approval 
at  that  very  paper  which  was  to  disturb  her  broth- 
er's serenity  a  few  hours  later.  Her  father  sat 
opposite  watching  her. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it?  "  he  inquired. 

* '  I  think  it  's  most  amusing  and  —  and  — 

"  Spirited?  " 

' '  Oh,  very  spirited !  ' '  she  laughed.  ' '  In  fact, 
I  think  it  's  a  splendid  speech. ' ' 

He  seemed  gratified. 

' '  Some  fellows  did  n  't  seem  to  care  for  it, ' '  he 
observed. 

' '  They  must  have  been  very  stupid,  then !  ' ' 

"  Old  buffers  generally  are,"  he  replied. 
"  Some  of  the  young  chaps  thought  it  first-rate, 
even  though  they  were  a  little  startled  for  the  mo- 
206 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

ment.  Though  why  people  should  feel  startled  by 
anything  so  self-evident  as  my  remarks  beats  me. 
Be  hanged  to  them  for  silly  idiots!  Eh,  Jean?  " 

His  momentary  expression  of  chagrin  made  way 
for  a  merry  smile,  which  set  his  daughter  smiling 
gaily  back. 

"  If  they  disagree  with  you,  father,  they  must 
be !  ' '  she  laughed. 

They  sat  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  Jean  watch- 
ing the  green  fields  and  trees  and  gates  and  walls 
rush  past  to  join  the  jagged  fells  behind  them,  her 
father  watching  her. 

"  It  's  awfully  good  of  you  taking  me  back  with 
you,"  she  said  presently. 

"If  it  's  a  treat  for  you,  you  deserve  it,"  he 
answered  affectionately ;  ' '  and  if  it  's  not  —  well, 
anyhow,  it  's  pleasant  for  me  having  your  com- 
pany." 

"  It  is  a  treat  for  me,  though  I  don't  quite  see 
what  I  Ve  done  to  deserve  it." 

"  You  have  stood  by  your  father,  my  dear;  and 
one  good  turn  deserves  another.  I  'd  have  been 
most  infernally  sick  if  I  'd  forgotten  that  dinner. 
It  gave  me  the  very  chance  of  saying  a  word  or  two 
in  season  I  'd  been  longing  for.  I  only  hope  it  will 
do  the  old  fogies  good. ' ' 

207 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

He  took  up  the  paper  and  glanced  again  at  the 
report. 

"  '  Remarkable  speech/  they  call  it,"  he  con- 
tinued complacently.  "  Well,  they  are  not  very 
far  wrong.  It  was  a  remarkable  speech.  Eh, 
Jean?  " 

The  good  gentleman  seemed  unable  to  obtain 
his  daughter's  approval  often  enough.  The  fact 
was  he  had  been  a  trifle  disappointed  with  the  atti- 
tude of  some  of  his  old  friends  last  night.  There 
was  no  doubt  about  it,  he  must  go  to  the  young 
folks  for  the  meed  of  sympathy  he  deserved. 

Jean  again  looked  out  of  the  window,  but  she 
ceased  to  pay  much  attention  to  the  backward- 
drifting  landscape.  Her  heart  was  too  full  of 
hopes  and  questionings  and  restless  wonder.  In 
a  little  she  turned  to  her  father  again  and  said, 
with  an  eye  so  candid  and  a  smile  so  kind  that 
many  members  even  of  her  own  sex  would  never 
have  suspected  a  hint  of  ulterior  design  — 

"Do  you  know,  you  are  the  very  best  of 
fathers!  " 

He  replied  in  the  same  spirit  of  affection,  and 
she  continued  — 

"  I  can't  tell  you  how  much  I  am  looking  for- 
ward to  being  in  London  again !  You  could  n  't 
208 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

have    done    anything    I  'd    have    liked    better." 

"  Yes,"  he  confessed,  "  London  is  an  amusing 
place." 

"  And  one  always  meets  so  many  people  one 
knows  there.  That  is  one  of  its  attractions." 

He  agreed  that  it  was. 

"  I  wonder  who  I  '11  meet  this  time?  " 

She  spoke  with  an  air  of  the  most  innocent  specu- 
lation, but  the  nature  of  her  parent's  smile  changed 
subtly. 

"  Goodness  knows  who  one  will  meet  in  Lon- 
don," he  replied.  "  Not  Andrew,  we  '11  hope,  eh? 
I  wonder  where  he  is  now." 

At  this  change  of  subject  her  breast  gave  a  quick 
little  heave  that  might  have  marked  a  stifled  sigh, 
but  she  dutifully  joined  in  what  she  could  not  but 
think  an  unnecessarily  prolonged  series  of  specu- 
lations regarding  the  movements  of  a  quite  unin- 
teresting young  man. 

But  her  eyes  were  very  bright  indeed  and  her 
face  instinct  with  suppressed  excitement  as  they 
drove  from  Euston  Station  into  the  life  of  the 
streets.  All  the  while  she  kept  looking  out  of  the 
cab  window,  as  though  amid  the  passing  myriads 
she  might  happen  already  to  recognize  one  of  those 
acquaintances  she  hoped  to  meet.  At  last  she  was 
14  209 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

in  London !  And  London  in  early  spring ;  London 
with  the  smuts  washed  off  by  torrential  showers 
and  then  flooded  with  glorious  sunshine;  London 
with  the  young  leaves  like  a  thin  veil  of  green  on 
the  limes  and  elms,  and  the  tassels  hanging  from 
the  poplars,  and  the  sycamores  and  horse  chestnuts 
already  casting  grateful  shade;  London  with  the 
mowing  machines  whirling  in  the  parks  and  the 
watering-carts  swishing  down  the  streets  —  is  a 
fairy  city  for  a  young  girl  with  a  large  hotel  to 
live  in,  a  generous  father,  and  a  lover  somewhere 
hidden  in  those  mysterious  miles  of  crowds  and 
houses..  Jean  half  wished  she  could  feel  a  little 
less  impatient,  so  that  she  might  relish  every  pass- 
ing moment  to  its  dregs. 

Her  father,  Frank,  and  she  dined  sumptuously 
and  went  to  the  most  entertaining  play  afterwards 
—  a  stimulating  medley  of  waltz  refrains  and 
gorgeous  clothes  and  a  funny  man  and  fifty  pretty 
girls.  She  did  not  pose  as  a  dramatic  critic,  and 
thought  it  splendid.  Then  they  had  supper  at 
the  Savoy,  and  —  so  to  bed. 

But  though  she  had  gone   to  her  room,  Jean 
lingered  for  long  before  her  open  window,  looking 
wistfully  over  the  humming,  lamp-lit  town.     His 
name  had  not  been  mentioned. 
210 


CHAPTER  XI 

LUCAS  painted,  but  not  so  fiercely  as  before ;  and 
again  from  the  deck-chair  Hillary  watched  him. 
He  rented  the  studio  next  door,  and  having  a  com- 
fortable private  income  of  £80  a  year,  generally 
spent  his  afternoons  encouraging  his  friend.  Occa- 
sionally, however,  he  considered  it  advisable  to  sup- 
ply chastening  reflections. 

"  I  don't  like  it,"  he  observed. 

"  Don't  like  what?  " 

"If  he  really  meant  to  buy  those  pictures,  I 
can't  help  thinking  you  would  have  heard  from 
him  again." 

The  artist  turned  abruptly. 

"  It  was  only  three  days  ago.  I  don't  expect 
to  hear  yet." 

"  Dear  old  Lucas,  I  don't  want  to  discourage 
you,  but  I  call  it  fishy.  Supposing  he  has  met  some 
one  since  who  really  knew  something  about  pic- 
tures? " 

His  friend  resumed  work  in  silence. 

"  There  is  also  another  possibility,"  continued 
211 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Hillary  in  his  gentle  voice.  "  He  struck  me  as 
suspiciously  extravagant  —  supposing  he  has  gone 
bankrupt?  I  noticed,  too,  that  his  complexion 
was  somewhat  rubicund  —  supposing  he  has  had  an 
apoplectic  fit?  In  that  case,  would  his  executors 
be  bound  by  his  verbal  promise  ?  Honestly,  Lucas, 
I  don't  think  so." 

There  came  a  sharp  rap  on  the  door. 

"  It  will  relax  the  strain  on  your  intellect  if  you 
go  and  see  who  that  is,"  suggested  the  painter. 

"  A  telegram,"  said  Hillary,  strolling  back  from 
the  door. 

"  Good  heavens!  "  cried  Lucas.    "  Read  that." 

Hillary  read  — 

"  Come  immediately.  Unfortunate  complica- 
tion here.  Require  you  to  explain  fully. —  HERIOT 
WALKJNGSHAW.  ' ' 

He  looked  considerably  sobered. 

"  Of  course  I  didn't  really  mean  what  I  was 
saying — " 

Lucas  interrupted  him  brusquely. 

"  I  'm  off.  Look  after  things  here.  What  the 
devil—" 

He  strode  down  the  lane,  hailed  a  cab,  and  drove 
212 


THE  PEODIGAL  FATHER 

off  to  an  accompaniment  of  the  most  anxious  specu- 
lations. 

' '  This  way,  sir, ' '  said  the  attendant  at  the  Hotel 
Gigantique. 

Lucas  followed  him,  still  racking  his  brains  for 
some  explanation  not  too  disastrous  to  his  hopes. 
The  man  opened  the  door  of  a  sitting-room  and 
closed  it  quietly  behind  him.  In  the  room  there 
was  only  one  person,  a  girl  with  the  sunniest  hair 
and  the  straightest  little  nose  and  the  most  de- 
lightfully astonished  face  imaginable. 

' '  Jean !  "  he  cried. 

He  took  a  quick  step  towards  her  and  then  re- 
membered the  gravity  of  the  summons. 

"  What  's  the  matter?  "  he  demanded. 

' '  Then  it  was  you !  ' '  she  exclaimed. 

"Me?  " 

' '  Father  only  told  me  that  some  one  —  a 
man — " 

He  held  out  the  telegram  abruptly. 

"  What  do  you  make  of  that?  " 

She  read  it,  and  then  read  it  again,  and  her  be- 
wilderment seemed  to  change  into  another  emotion. 

"  What  did  your  father  tell  you  to  do?  "  asked 
Lucas. 

213 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

She  gave  him  the  queerest  look. 

"  Get  rid  of  the  man  if  I  could,"  she  said. 

He  ran  his  fingers  through  his  mop  of  brown 
hair. 

' '  But  I  don 't  understand  —  what  's  the  '  com- 
plication '  ?  " 

She  began  to  smile  shyly  — 

' '  Lucas,  don 't  you  think  —  don 't  you  see  — 
there  's  nothing  else.  I  must  be  the  complication 
here." 

' '  Ahem !  ' '  coughed  Mr.  Walkingshaw. 

The  lovers  endeavored  to  look  as  though  the  art- 
ist had  been  merely  posing  his  patron's  daughter. 

"  Well?  "  inquired  that  patron  genially. 

Lucas  had  not  altogether  lost  his  ready  audacity. 

"  I  came  at  once,  sir,"  he  replied,  "  and  I  have 
explained  fully.  The  complication  has  been 
cleared  up. ' ' 

Laughing  gleefully,  chattering  away  much  more 
like  the  prospective  best  man  than  the  future  father- 
in-law,  he  led  them  (an  arm  thrown  about  each) 
towards  the  sofa,  where  they  sat  together,  crowded 
but  happy. 

"  What  would   you  put  your  income  at  now, 
Lucas?  "  he  inquired  mischievously. 
214 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Lucas  looked  a  little  rueful. 

"  The  same  fluctuating  figures,  I  'm  afraid,"  he 
confessed. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  don't  worry,"  said  Heriot 
kindly.  "  Money  isn't  everything  in  this  world. 
Youth  and  love  and  pluck  are  the  main  things. 
Hang  it,  what  if  you  do  get  into  debt  occasion- 
ally? You  've  got  a  pretty  oofy  father-in-law. 
Of  course,  my  dear  chap,  I  don't  encourage  ex- 
travagance; far  from  it  " — he  glanced  compla- 
cently at  the  chaste  upholstery  of  the  Hotel  Gigan- 
tique.  "  I  believe  in  paying  your  way,  and  laying 
by  for  a  rainy  day,  and  all  that  kind  of  thing,  just 
as  much  as  ever  I  did  —  in  theory,  anyhow.  But 
in  practice  I  may  just  as  well  tell  you  at  once,  to 
ease  your  mind,  that  Jean  will  have  three  hundred 
a  year  to  keep  the  pot  boiling." 

He  pooh-poohed  their  gratitude  with  the  most 
genial  air. 

' '  Don 't  mention  it,  my  dear  young  people,  don 't 
mention  it.  It  comes  out  of  Andrew's  share,  so 
it 'sail  right." 

"  But  I  couldn't  dream  of  robbing  Andrew!  " 
cried  'Jean  warmly. 

"  He  spends  his  days  in  robbing  our  clients," 
chuckled  the  senior  partner,  ' '  so  you  need  n  't 
215 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

worry  about  him.  Besides,  he  doesn't  know  how 
to  spend  money  even  when  he  has  got  it."  He 
lowered  his  voice  confidentially.  ' '  Andrew  has  n  't 
a  spark  of  the  sportsman  in  him;  he  's  all  very 
well  as  a  partner  —  one  wants  'em  tough ;  but  as  a 
son  —  good  Lord!  " 

And  then  the  good  gentleman  tactfully  retired 
to  the  billiard-room,  leaving  behind  him  the  two 
happiest  people  in  London. 


216 


CHAPTER  XII 

NATURALLY,  Lucas  stayed  to  dinner,  and  natu- 
rally also  he  and  Jean  were  left  in  uninterrupted 
occupation  of  the  private  sitting-room,  while  her 
father  and  Frank  smoked  and  talked  together  in  a 
quiet  corner  of  the  hall.  MY.  Walkingshaw  was 
radiant  with  the  reflection  of  the  happiness  he  had 
brought  about.  He  could  do  nothing  but  make 
little  plans  for  introducing  Lucas  to  his  picture- 
buying  acquaintances,  select  eligible  districts  of 
London  for  their  residence,  and  jot  down  various 
articles  of  furniture  or  ornament  that  he  could 
spare  them  from  his  own  mansion.  Frank  seemed 
equally  delighted,  though  his  good  spirits  were  oc- 
casionally interrupted  by  fits  of  reverie. 

"  Somehow  or  other,"  said  Mr.  Walkingshaw, 
"  I  feel  more  and  more  like  a  friend  of  Jean  and 
you,  and  less  and  less  like  your  father.  Odd  thing, 
is  n't  it,  Frank?  " 

"  A  jolly  fine  thing,"  said  Frank  warmly.  "  By 
Jove,  sir,  I  can't  tell  you  how  much  I  prefer  it!  " 
217 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Do  you  really?  Well,  then,  I  won't  worry 
about  the  feeling  any  more.'* 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  had  not  given  the  impression 
that  he  was  worrying  about  that  or  any  other  feel- 
ing, but  one  was  bound  to  take  his  word  for  it. 

"  I  enjoy  the  sensation  far  more  myself,"  he 
went  on.  "  It  produces  a  kind  of  mutual  confi- 
dence and  that  sort  of  thing.  I  hardly  feel  inclined 
to  explain  the  cause  of  this  improvement  yet, 
Frank;  but  you  may  take  my  word  that  there  is 
nothing  in  the  least  discreditable  about  it.  In  fact, 
when  one  comes  to  think  of  it,  there  's  nothing  so 
very  extraordinary  either.  It  's  a  perfectly  sound 
scientific  idea,  perfectly  sound;  so  you  can  make 
your  mind  at  ease  too,  Frank. ' ' 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Frank's  mind  had  already 
wandered  far  afield  from  these  interesting  but 
slightly  obscure  speculations. 

"  Oh,  that  's  all  right,  I  assure  you,"  he  an- 
swered vaguely. 

"  It  's  a  grand  thing  to  know  that  Jean's  love 
affair  has  turned  out  so  happily,"  his  father  con- 
tinued. "  I  can't  tell  you  what  a  satisfaction  it  is 
tome." 

"  Yes,  isn't  it?  "  Frank  murmured  from  the 
clouds. 

218 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  I  only  wish  I  could  feel  as  sure  of  Andrew 
falling  on  his  feet." 

Frank 's  wits  were  wide  awake  now. 

"  Andrew-!  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Good  heavens,  do 
you  mean  to  say  you  don't  think  he  has  fallen  on 
his  feet?  " 

His  father  shook  his  head  dubiously. 

"  But,  my  dear  father,  I  thought  you  agreed 
with  me  —  agreed  with  all  of  us,  I  mean  —  that 
Ellen 's  just  the  —  well,  the  —  er  —  the  —  er  —  the 
nicest  girl  in  the  world. ' ' 

"  Oh,  she's  all  that." 

"  Then  what  on  earth  do  you  mean?  " 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  leant  confidentially  over  the 
arm  of  his  easy-chair. 

"  Between  ourselves,  Frank,  I  'm  rather  doubt- 
ful whether  she  thinks  Andrew  the  nicest  man  in 
the  world." 

' '  But  —  but  —  surely  she  —  er  —  I  mean,  they 
are  engaged." 

' '  Frank,  my  boy,  not  a  word  of  this  to  a  soul  — 
not  even  to  Jean  or  Lucas.  I  may  be  wrong,  and 
I  don 't  want  to  make  mischief ;  but  I  have  a  strong 
suspicion  there  's  another  fellow." 

"  What  kind  of  fellow?  " 

"  A  rival." 

219 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Good  God!  "  cried  Frank.  "  Who  the  devil 
is  he?  " 

"  Hush,  hush  —  not  so  violently,  my  dear  fel- 
low. It  's  pretty  sickening,  of  course ;  but  till  you 
know  who  he  is,  you  can't  knock  him  down." 

"  Well,  then,  tell  me  who  he  is." 

"  That  's  just  what  I  'd  like  to  know  myself. 
It  's  some  one  in  Perthshire." 

"  How  do  you  know?  "  demanded  Frank. 

He  controlled  his  voice,  but  in  his  eyes  burned  a 
light  that  boded  ill  for  his  brother's  rival  when  he 
caught  him. 

"  Well,  you  can  judge  for  yourself  how  I  know. 
Andrew  noticed  the  change  in  Ellen's  manner  the 
first  time  he  saw  her  after  she  'd  been  staying  with 
us.  The  only  fellow  she  met  in  Edinburgh  was 
yourself,  so  it  must  be  some  one  in  Perthshire." 

The  militant  Highlander  fell  back  in  his  chair 
with  a  gasp,  and  the  light  of  battle  died  out  of 
his  eyes. 

"  Don't  you  agree  with  me?  "  asked  his  father. 

"  I  — er  —  I  don't  know,"  he  stammered. 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  had  grown  none  the  less 
shrewd  as  his  weight  of  years  was  lightened. 

"  Eh?  "  he  demanded  quickly,  "  what  do  you 
know  about  it?    Be  perfectly  frank  with  me." 
220 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

' '  But  why  should  you  think  that  —  er  — 
I—" 

' '  Tell  me  this  —  do  you  know  of  any  one  who  's 
been  paying  attention  to  Ellen  Berstoun  ?  ' ' 

Poor  Frank's  color  grew  deeper  and  deeper. 

' '  There  —  there  was  one  fellow,  I  'm  ashamed  to 
say." 

"  Ashamed?  Why  should  you  be  ash —  '  Mr. 
Walkingshaw  broke  off  suddenly  and  gazed  at  his 
son  with  very  wide-open  eyes.  "  Frank  —  it  was 
yourself!  " 

The  treacherous  brother  hung  his  head.  And 
then,  in  the  depths  of  his  penitence,  he  heard  these 
extraordinary  words  — 

"  My  dear,  dear  chap,  this  is  almost  too  good 
to  be  true!  " 

"  Too  good!  "  gasped  Frank. 

"  What  did  you  do  — kiss  her?  " 

"  No,  no ;  not  so  bad  as  that !  " 

"  You  let  her  know,  though?  There  's  no  mis- 
take about  that,  eh?  " 

"I'm  afraid  I  did." 

His  father  took  his  hand. 

"  She  is  yours,"  said  he. 

"  Minef  But,  my  dear  father,  she  is  An- 
drew'si  " 

221 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  She  was;  but  he  's  such  a  perfect  sumph,  I  'm 
thankful  she  's  got  quit  of  him." 

"What!     Is  it  broken  off  ?" 

"It  will  be." 

"  An  engagement?  " 

"  What 's  an  engagement?  Speaking  as  a  law- 
yer of  many  years'  standing,  I  may  tell  you  can- 
didly that  engagements,  and  agreements,  and  bar- 
gains are  simply  devices  for  keeping  rascals  from 
swindling  one  another.  If  honest  men  agree,  they 
don 't  need  a  stamped  bit  of  paper ;  and  if  they  dis- 
agree, where  's  the  point  in  leashing  them  together, 
like  a  couple  of  growling  dogs?  And  the  case  is 
a  thousand  times  stronger  when  it  comes  to  a  man 
and  a  girl.  I  was  only  afraid  I  should  lose  a 
charming  daughter-in-law,  and  now  you  've  taken 
that  weight  off  my  mind.  I  can't  tell  you  how 
happy  I  feel!  " 

Frank's  young  face  was  grave  and  his  candid 
eyes  looked  straight  at  his  father. 

' '  Look  here, ' '  he  replied,  ' '  I  'm  going  to  do  the 
straight  thing  by  Andrew.  I  don 't  know  that  I  've 
ever  loved  him  as  much  as  I  ought,  but  that  's  all 
the  more  reason  why  I  should  n  't  chisel  him  now. ' ' 

' '  Oh,  that  's  your  military  idea  of  discipline  and 
all  the  rest  of  it ;  but  let  me  tell  you,  falling  in  love 
222 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

is  a  different  kind  of  thing  from  forming  fours." 

For  the  first  time  the  young  soldier  clearly  dis- 
approved of  his  father's  rejuvenation. 

"  Duty  is  duty,"  he  persisted,  "  and  I  tell  you 
honestly  I  'm  not  going  to  sneak  in  behind  my 
brother's  back." 

"  Is  Ellen  to  have  nothing  to  say  in  the  matter? 
Do  you  propose  to  marry  her  to  the  man  she 
doesn't  love,  instead  of  the  man  she  does,  with- 
out so  much  as  giving  her  the  choice  ?  ' ' 

The  soldier  met  this  flank  attack  by  a  change 
of  front. 

"  But  Andrew  has  the  means  to  marry  her,  and 
I  Venot." 

"  I  '11  give  you  the  means,"  said  his  father. 

Frank  began  to  realize  that  Duty  was  in  a  very 
tight  corner. 

' '  But  I  have  n  't  any  grounds  whatever  for  think- 
ing that  Ellen  cares  for  me." 

"  I  have." 

"  You  '11  have  to  convince  me." 

"  Is  it  not  clearly  your  duty  to  settle  that  point 
first?  " 

Frank  hesitated. 

"  Well  — perhaps  it  is." 

The  crafty  strategist  smiled. 
223 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"We  '11  settle  it!" 

"When?  " 

"  At  once.    Where  's  a  time-table?  " 

"  But  look  here,  my  dear  father,  there  's  the 
question  of  honor  to  be  settled  after  that." 

' '  After  that  —  exactly ;  I  'm  with  you  all  the 
way.  But  in  the  meanwhile,  first  get  this  into 
your  head.  An  engagement  is  an  affair  of  two 
hearts,  not  of  two  pockets  or  two  heads.  If  the 
hearts  are  off,  the  bargain  's  off.  That  's  the  whole 
ethics  of  an  engagement.  And  let  me  tell  you 
I  'm  not  without  some  experience." 

"  Heriot!  "  exclaimed  a  familiar  voice. 

The  W.S.  looked  round  with  a  start.  There, 
through  the  middle  of  the  hall,  attired  in  a  most 
becoming  traveling  coat  of  fur,  advanced  the  sym- 
pathetic widow. 

"  My  dear  Madge!  "  cried  her  betrothed. 
•Almost  in  the  same  instant  his  off  eye  signaled 
to  his  son  a  hurried  but  expressive  warning. 


224 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  hour  was  late,  but  in  spite  of  Heriot's 
kindly  suggestion  that  the  rapture  he  anticipated 
from  her  conversation  should  be  postponed  till  she 
had  recovered  from  the  fatigues  of  her  journey, 
his  fiancee  unselfishly  preferred  to  recompense  him 
immediately  for  his  prolonged  deprivation  of  her 
society.  He  acceded  at  once  to  her  wishes,  with 
the  most  amiable  air  imaginable. 

' '  And  now,  my  dear  Madge, ' '  said  he,  when  they 
were  seated  in  a  secluded  corner  of  the  lounge, 
"  tell  me  all  your  news.  In  the  first  place,  how  's 
my  own  precious?  " 

"  I  am  very  well,  thank  you,"  replied  the  lady, 
a  little  coolly. 

"  Delighted  to  hear  it !  " 

"  You  could,  of  course,  have  discovered  it  sooner 
by  simply  writing  to  inquire,"  she  pointed  out, 
with  the  same  air. 

"  But  I  did,  my  dear  girl,  I  did." 

"  Once." 

«  225 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Only  once,  was  it?  Now,  I  could  have  sworn 
it  was  twice. ' ' 

"  And  did  you  think  twice  was  often  enough?  " 

"  Well,  you  see,  Madge,"  he  explained,  "  we  got 
engaged  in  such  a  deuce  of  a  hurry,  and  I  had 
to  rush  off  next  morning,  and  so  on.  I  did  n  't 
have  time  to  ask  you  how  often  you  wished  me  to 
write. ' ' 

' '  Did  n 't  my  last  two  unanswered  letters  give 
you  any  idea  on  the  subject  ?  ' ' 

"  Two  letters,  Madge?  Now,  do  you  know,  I 
could  have  sworn  it  was  only  one." 

She  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"  Heriot,  what  is  the  meaning  of  your  conduct?  " 

' '  To  what  points  in  it  do  you  refer,  my  dear  ?  ' ' 

"  I  may  tell  you  I  have  heard  from  Charlie 
Munro." 

It  was  remarkable  how  quickly  Mr.  "Walking- 
shaw  had  developed.  That  reputation  he  still 
clung  to  when  he  saw  her  last  was  no  longer  a  brake 
upon  his  downward  career. 

"  Poor  old  Charlie!  "  he  laughed.  "  By  'Jove, 
Madge,  I  jolly  well  hoisted  him  with  his  own 
thingamajig!  " 

She  regarded  him  stonily. 
226 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  And  what  of  the  business  you  went  to  see  him 
about?  " 

"  Did  I  say  I  was  going  to  see  him  on  business?  " 

"You  did!  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  my  dear  girl;  you  must  have  mis- 
understood me.  Of  course,  it  was  natural  enough ; 
we  were  both  rather  carried  away  by  our  feelings 
that  night,  were  n  't  we,  Madge  ?  ' ' 

He  took  her  hand  and  pressed  it  affectionately, 
but  it  made  no  response. 

' '  Why  did  n 't  you  come  to  see  me  when  you 
were  in  Edinburgh?  "  she  inquired. 

"  I  ought  to  have,"  he  answered,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  the  sincerest  apology.  "  Yes,  I  sup- 
pose I  ought  to  have." 

"  You  suppose!  Didn't  it  occur  to  you  at  the 
time?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  occurred.  In  fact,  my  difficulty 
was  to  keep  myself  away  from  you." 

"  May  I  ask  why  it  was  necessary  to  make  the 
effort?  " 

"  Well,  the  fact  is,"  he  explained,  "  I  had  a 
little  scheme  for  Jean  which  I  wanted  to  keep  a 
secret — " 

' '  And  you  could  n 't  trust  me !  "  she  interrupted. 
227 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  A  charming  woman  and  a  secret?  "  he  smiled 
archly.  "  My  dear  girl,  your  rosy  lips  would  have 
gone  chatter,  chatter,  chatter  all  over  the  town !  ' ' 

She  snatched  her  hand  away  with  some  degree 
of  violence. 

"  You  talk  like  an  idiot!  "  she  replied. 

"  My  dear  Madge!     This  is  your  own  Heriot?  " 

She  took  out  a  little  handkerchief  of  lace  and 
gently  touched  first  one  eye  and  then  the  other. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  love  me!  " 

Heriot 's  kind  heart  was  sincerely  moved. 

"  I  adore  you!  " 

A  faint  smile  at  last  appeared  upon  her  face. 

"  How  can  you  possibly  when  you  go  on  like 
this?  " 

"Like  what?" 

The  smile  died  away  and  a  quick  frown  took  its 
place. 

"  Heriot!  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  think  your 
behavior  has  looked  like  loving  me?  " 

"  It  's  the  heart  that  counts,  Madge,  not  the  be- 
havior, ' '  he  assured  her. 

She  sat  up  in  her  chair  with  an  air  of  decision. 

"  The  behavior  does  count;  so  please  don't  talk 
as  though  you  thought  I  was  a  fool.  For  your 
own  sake,  for  the  sake  of  your  reputation  and  your 
228 


family,  you  've  got  to  come  back  with  me  to-mor- 
row! " 

He  seized  her  hand. 

"  My  dear  Madge,  that 's  just  what  I  meant  to 
do." 

He  rose  and  bent  over  her  with  every  symptom 
of  affection. 

"  And  now  you  must  really  go  to  bed.  You  're 
looking  tired;  really  you  are.  It  quite  distresses 
me." 

She  still  kept  her  seat. 

' '  You  promise  to  come  with  me  ?  " 

"  I  assure  you  I  've  got  to  come." 

"  I  must  have  your  promise." 

He  looked  hurt. 

"  Hang  it,  Madge,  can't  you  trust  me?  " 

"  No,  I  cannot.     Give  me  your  promise." 

His  air  of  affection  decidedly  diminished,  but  he 
gave  the  pledge  — 

"  I  promise  to  go  north  to-morrow." 

"  I  can  really  trust  you?  " 

He  began  to  frown. 

"  Implicitly." 

She  rose  at  last,  and  they  went  together  towards 
the  lift. 

"  When  do  you  breakfast?  "  she  asked. 
229 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

He  answered  somewhat  stiffly  — 

"  There  is  no  necessity  of  starting  before  two 
o'clock.  Breakfast  when  you  like." 

"  We  shall  say  ten  o'clock,  then." 

"  That  is  fairly  late,  isn't  it?  " 

"  You  forget  that  I  have  had  a  tiring  day,  and 
perhaps  you  hardly  realize  whose  conduct  has  tired 
me.  Good-night. ' ' 

"  Good-night,"  he  replied  in  an  unimpassioned 
voice. 

As  the  widow  ascended  she  told  herself  that 
she  had  adopted  entirely  the  right  attitude.  She 
might  relent  to-morrow,  but  till  then  it  was  well 
he  should  be  deprived  of  the  sunshine  of  her  smiles. 

Next  morning  at  the  hour  of  10:15  she  stepped 
out  of  the  lift  to  find  Jean  waiting  in  the  hall.  She 
greeted  Mrs.  Dunbar  with  a  markedly  composed 
air. 

"  I  hope  you  won't  mind  breakfasting  alone?  " 
she  said. 

It  was  evident  that  the  widow  did  mind. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  your  father  has  actually 
breakfasted  without  me?  " 

"  Unfortunately,  he  had  to." 

"Had  to!  " 

230 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  He  and  Frank  found  they  must  catch  the  ten 
o'clock  train." 

Mrs.  Dunbar  gasped. 

"  He  — has  gone?  " 

"Yes." 

"  But  he  promised  to  go  with  me!  " 

"  I  understood  him  to  say,"  said  Jean  quietly, 
"  that  he  had  merely  promised  to  go  north." 

' '  Oh,  indeed !     Then  he  has  run  away  ?  ' ' 

"  From  whom?  "  asked  Jean  demurely. 

The  widow  bit  her  lip. 

"  I  consider  his  conduct  simply  disgraceful — " 

Jean  interrupted  her  quickly  — 

"  I  had  rather  not  discuss  my  father's  conduct. 
Don't  let  me  keep  you  from  breakfast." 

Mrs.  Dunbar  remained  standing  in  silence,  a 
magnificent  statue  of  displeasure.  In  a  moment 
•she  inquired  — 

' '  And  why  are  you  waiting  here  ?  ' ' 

"  Father  thought  you  might  like  my  company 
on  the  journey." 

"  How  very  thoughtful  of  him!  Then  you  go 
at  two?  " 

"  Yes." 

The  widow  gazed  at  her  intently. 
231 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  I  can  hardly  believe  this  of  Heriot.  Is  all  this 
his  own  idea?  " 

Jean  flushed  slightly,  but  answered  as  demurely 
as  ever  — 

"  It  is  his  wish." 

"  Ah,  I  see!  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dunbar  bitterly, 
"  I  thought  there  was  a  woman's  hand  in  this 
affair." 

' '  Do  you  mean  another  woman 's  hand  ?  ' ' 

The  injured  lady  began  uneasily  to  realize  that 
there  was  a  fresh  factor  in  the  situation.  But  who 
would  have  dreamt  of  little  Jean  Walkingshaw 
being  dangerous?  As  Madge  traveled  north  that 
afternoon,  uncompromisingly  secluded  behind  a 
lady's  journal,  she  could  not  get  out  of  her  head 
the  uncomfortable  fancy  that  her  trim,  fair-haired 
escort  sat  like  a  protecting  deity  (heathen  and  sin- 
ister) between  Heriot  and  all  who  desired,  even 
with  the  most  loving  purpose,  to  chasten  his  faults 
and  moderate  the  exuberance  of  his  too  virile  spirit. 

Jean  herself  was  warmly  conscious  that  some 
such  duty  was  surely  laid  upon  her.  With  what 
less  reward  could  she  repay  all  he  had  done  for 
her?  It  will  be  discovered,  however,  from  the  suc- 
ceeding instalment  of  facts,  that  though  the  guar- 
232 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

dian  angel  of  Heriot  Walkingshaw  might  go  the 
pace  with  him  thus  far,  it  would  probably  have 
been  beyond  the  power  even  of  a  genuinely  celestial 
spirit  to  keep  at  his.  shoulder  when  he  spurted. 


233 


PART  IV 


CHAPTER  I 

ARCHIBALD  BEBSTOUN  of  that  ilk  ("  of  y*  ilk  " 
was  the  form  that  most  delicately  tickled  his  pal- 
ate) still  dwelt  in  the  fortalice  built  by  his  ances- 
tors at  a  time  when  to  the  average  Scot  the  national 
tartan  suggested  but  an  alien  barbarian  who  stole 
his  cattle;  and  the  national  bagpipe,  the  national 
heather,  and  the  national  whisky  were  merely  the 
noise  the  brute  made,  the  cover  that  preserved  him 
from  the  gallows,  and  the  stuff  that  gave  you  your 
one  chance  of  catching  him  asleep. 

(A  few  reflections  on  the  whirligig  of  time  were 
here  inserted,  but  have  since  been  omitted,  as  they 
were  found  to  occur  in  a  modified  form  elsewhere.) 

The  castle  stood  in  the  lowland  part  of  Perth- 
shire, and  was  erected  by  the  second  of  that  ilk  as 
a  tribute  to  the  dexterity  with,  which  his  highland 
neighbors  had  removed  the  effects  and  cut  the 
throat  of  the  first.  It  was  a  sober  and  simple 
building,  steep-roofed  and  battlemented  at  the  top, 
turreted  at  the  angles,  and  pierced  with  a  few  nar- 
row windows  so  irregularly  scattered  about  its  gray 
237 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

harled  walls  as  to  suggest  that  no  two  rooms  could 
possibly  be  on  the  same  level.  Naturally,  the 
architectural  genius  who  illumines  the  quiet  annals 
of  every  landed  family  had  knocked  out  a  number 
of  French  windows  into  the  lawn  and  constructed 
the  first  story  of  a  Chinese  pagoda,  in  which  he 
proposed  to  store  Etruscan  curios  with  an  aviary 
above;  but  his  descendants  had  fortunately  lacked 
the  funds  to  complete  these  improvements.  In 
fact,  the  stump  of  the  pagoda  was  now  so  entirely 
overgrown  with  ivy  that  it  had  become  the  tradi- 
tional fortress  of  Agricola. 

This  ancient  habitation  of  a  hard-fighting  race 
was  framed  on  two  sides  by  a  garden  that  looked 
as  old  as  the  walls  which  towered  above  it,  and 
was  well-nigh  as  simple  and  sober.  Dark  clipped 
yews,  and  smooth  green  grass,  and  graceful  old- 
world  flowers  were  its  chief  and  sufficient  ingredi- 
ents. The  genius  who  designed  the  pagoda  had  not 
yet  turned  his  attention  to  the  garden  when  Provi- 
dence checked  his  career. 

A  wood  of  black  Scotch  firs  stretched  for  a  long 
way  beyond  this  pleasant  garden,  and  struck  a 
stern  northern  note  befitting  the  gnarled  battle- 
ments; while,  nearer  the  house,  gray  beech  stems 
towered  out  of  the  brown  dead  leaves  below  up 
238 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

to  the  brown  live  buds  a  hundred  feet  nearer  the 
clouds. 

On  the  remaining  two  sides  of  the  castle  you 
were  not  supposed  to  bestow  attention,  since  after 
the  old  custom  the  home  farm  approached  mqre 
closely  than  is  fashionable  nowadays;  though  to 
the  curious  they  were  the  sides  best  worth  atten- 
tion^ owing  to  the  cultured  pagoda-builder  having 
deemed  it  beneath  his  dignity  to  molest  them. 

One  afternoon  in  early  spring  Ellen  Berstoun 
walked  slowly  down  a  sheltered  garden  path.  She 
had  been  singularly  moody  of  late  —  so  distressed, 
indeed,  and  so  little  like  a  lucky  girl  whose  wed- 
ding might  be  fixed  for  any  day  she  chose  to  name, 
that  her  five  unmarried  sisters  held  many  private 
debates  on  the  causes  of  her  conduct.  The  three 
next  to  her  in  years  expressed  grave  apprehensions 
lest  the  very  fairly  creditable  marriage  arranged 
for  her  should  after  all  fall  through.  Ellen  was  not 
treating  Andrew  well,  they  complained;  while  on 
the  other  hand,  the  two  youngest,  being  as  yet 
irresponsibly  romantic,  declared  vigorously  that 
they  had  sooner  dear  Ellen  remained  single  to 
the  end  of  her  days  than  introduced  such  a  long- 
lipped,  fat-cheeked  brother-in-law7  into  the  family. 

It  was  a  part  of  poor  Ellen 's  burden  that  she  was 
239 


THE  PKODIGAL  FATHER 

acutely  conscious  of  the  duty  which  her  parents 
and  all  her  aunts  assured  her  she  owed  these 
sisters.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  to  share  the  re- 
mainder of  her  existence  with  Andrew  Walking- 
shaw —  There  rose  vividly  a  picture  of  that 
most  respectable  of  partners,  and  the  emotion  at- 
tendant on  this  vision  drew  from  her  a  sigh  that 
ought  to  have  ecnvinced  the  most  skeptical  she  was 
very  hard  hit  indeed. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  she  spied  a  lad  ap- 
proaching from  the  house. 

"  Well,  Jimmy?  "  she  inquired. 

With  an  appearance  of  some  caution,  he  handed 
her  a  note. 

"  It  was  to  be  gi'en  to  yoursel'  privately,  miss," 
he  said  mysteriously,  and  turned  to  go. 

"  Is  there  no  answer?  "  she  asked. 

"  He  said  I  wasna  to  bide  for  an  answer." 

He  hurried  off  as  though  his  directions  had  been 
peremptory,  and  Ellen  opened  the  letter.  It  was 
written  upon  the  notepaper  of  a  local  inn,  and  if 
she  was  surprised  to  discover  the  writer,  she  was 
still  more  astonished  by  the  contents. 

"  MY  DEAR  ELLEN,"  it  ran,  "  I  should  take  it  as 
a  very  great  favor  indeed  if  you  would  come  im- 
mediately on  receiving  this  and  meet  me  at  the 
240 


farther  end  of  the  wood  below  your  garden.  Pol- 
low  the  path,  and  you  will  find  me  waiting  for  you. 
The  matter  is  of  such  importance  that  I  make 
no  apologies  for  suggesting  this  romantic  pro- 
ceeding !  —  With  love,  yours  affectionately, 

J.  HERIOT  WALKINGSHAW. 

"  P.S. —  Don't  say  a  word  to  one  of  your  family. 
Secrecy  is  absolutely  essential." 

Ellen  stood  lost  in  perplexity.  Rumors  had 
reached  her  of  Mr.  Walkingshaw's  recent  eccen- 
tricity. The  request  was  entirely  out  of  keeping 
with  all  her  previous  acquaintance  with  him ;  that 
point  of  exclamation  after  "  romantic  proceeding  " 
struck  her  as  uncomfortably  dissimilar  to  his 
usual  methods  of  composition.  Ought  she  not  to 
consult  one  of  her  parents,  or  at  least  a  sister? 
And  yet  the  postscript  was  too  explicit  to  be  neg- 
lected. 

For  a  few  minutes  she  hesitated.  Then  she  made 
up  her  mind;  her  warm  heart  could  not  bear  to 
disappoint  anybody ;  and  besides,  Mr.  Heriot  Walk- 
ingshaw,  however  odd  his  conduct  might  have  been 
lately  was  such  a  pompously  respectable  —  indeed 
venerable  —  old  gentleman  that  a  maiden  might 
surely  trust  herself  with  him  alone,  even  in  a  grove 
of  trees.  And  so,  in  a  furtive  and  backward- 
16  241 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

glancing  manner,  she  stole  into  the  wood.  It  was 
an  unusual  way  of  approaching  one's  father's  man 
of  business  and  one's  finance's  parent,  but  Ellen 
consoled  herself  by  the  reflection  that  an  experi- 
enced Writer  to  the  Signet  should  best  know  how 
these  things  were  done. 

She  hurried  down  a  narrow,  winding  glade, 
lined  by  countless  slender  columns  supporting  far 
overhead  a  roof  of  millions  of  dark  green  needles 
swaying  and  murmuring  in  the  breeze.  Suddenly 
sunshine  and  green  fields  filled  the  opening  of  the 
glade,  and  as  suddenly  a  tall  gentleman  stepped 
from  behind  a  tree  and  politely  raised  a  fashion- 
able felt  hat.  In  all  essential  features  he  was  the 
image  of  Mr.  Heriot  Walkingshaw,  only  that  he 
was  so  very  much  younger. 

"  Well,  my  dear  Ellen!  "  he  exclaimed  heartily. 

She  stared  at  him,  too  amazed  for  speech. 

"  Am  I  really  so  changed  already?  "  he  in- 
quired with  a  smile.  "  That  shows  the  beneficial 
effect  of  seeing  you." 

Even  though  his  manner  had  altered  as  much 
as  his  appearance,  she  found  the  change  so  agree- 
able that  she  overlooked  its  strangeness.  She  smiled 
back  at  him. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  looking  so  well,"  she  said. 
242 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

He  beamed  upon  her  in  what  he  sincerely  meant 
for  a  paternal  manner. 

' '  You,  my  dear  child,  look  ripping !  My  hat, 
you  are  pretty!  Ellen  dear,  my  only  wish  is  to 
make  you  as  happy  as  you  are  bonny." 

She  looked  at  him  searchingly,  and  her  voice  had 
a  note  of  guarded  alarm. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

His  air  became  sympathy  itself. 

"  My  dear  girl,  I  have  been  greatly  distressed 
to  hear  that  all  has  not  been  going  smoothly  with 
you  and  Andrew." 

She  gave  him  a  quick  glance  and  then  looked 
away. 

"  Indeed !  "  she  answered  a  little  coldly.  "  Who 
told  you  that?  " 

"  I  can  read  it  in  my  son's  altered  health." 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise,  but  without 
anxiety. 

' '  I  did  n  't  know  there  was  anything  the  matter 
with  him." 

11  He  had  to  hasten  up  to  London  for  a  change 
of  air." 

"  I  hope  it  did  him  good,"  she  said  indifferently. 

"  My  dear  girl,  have  you  no  wish  to  hurry  to 
his  bedside?  " 

243 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  should  n't  be  any  good  if  I  did." 

"  And  you  wouldn't  find  him  in  bed,  either," 
smiled  Mr.  Walkingshaw,  with  a  change  of  manner. 
' '  No,  no,  Ellen ;  you  need  n  't  pretend  you  're  in 
love  with  Andrew  if  that  's  all  the  concern  you 
feel.  And  I  may  tell  you  at  once  that  he  's  as 
tough  as  ever,  and  as  great  a  fool.  The  fellow  is 
totally  unworthy  of  you,  so  don't  you  worry  your 
head  about  him  any  longer." 

He  bent  over  her  confidentially. 

"  Supposing  some  one  were  to  cut  him  out,  eh?  " 

"  Some  one — "  she  stammered.     "  Who?  " 

' '  Guess !  "he  smiled. 

She  did  guess;  and  it  was  a  shocking  surmise. 

"I  —  I  have  no  idea,"  she  fibbed. 

' '  Oh,  come  now,  hang  it,  look  me  in  the  eye  and 
repeat  that !  ' ' 

For  an  instant,  she  looked  into  that  roguish  eye, 
and  her  worst  suspicions  were  confirmed. 

"  Mr.  Walkingshaw,"  she  answered,  with  trem- 
bling candor,  "  I  feel  very  much  honored,  but 
really  I  must  ask  you  not  to  —  not  to  say  anything 
more.  Our  ages  —  oh,  everything  —  I  couldn't! 
1  had  better  go  back  now." 

The  philanthropic  father  gasped. 

"Ellen!  stop!  My  dear  child,  I  don't  mean 
244 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

myself!     Good  heavens,   I  am  far  too  old  for  a 
young  girl  like  you!  " 

Yet  it  was  at  that  moment  that  he  suddenly 
realized  he  was  n  't. 

"  Then  —  then  what  — "  she  began,  and  stopped, 
overwhelmed  with  confusion. 

Hurriedly  he  endeavored  to  put  things  once  more 
upon  a  paternal  footing. 

"  My  fault,  my  dear  Ellen,  my  fault  entirely. 
Naturally  you  thought  —  er  —  yes,  yes,  it  was  quite 
natural.  I  —  I  put  it  badly.  I  did  n 't  think  what 
I  was  saying.  The  fact  is,  I  've  been  ' ' —  a  bril- 
liant inspiration  suddenly  illumined  the  chaos  of 
his  mind  — ' '  I  've  been  so  troubled  about  poor 
Frank!  " 

Her  expression  altogether  changed. 

"  What  's  the  matter?  "  she  exclaimed. 

His  mind  calmed  down.  Composing  his  coun- 
tenance, he  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"  I  don't  think  he  11  get  over  it." 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm  with  a  quick,  in- 
voluntary gesture. 

"  But  what  has  happened  ?     Tell  me!" 

The  wisdom  of  age  and  the  shrewdness  of  youth 
twinkled  together  in  Mr.  Walkingshaw 's  eye,  but 
he  managed  to  retain  a  decorously  solemn  air. 
245 


"  You  are  really  concerned  this  time?  " 
"  Of  course!     I  —  I  mean,  naturally." 
He  drew  her  hand  through  his  arm  and  led  her 
along  the  fringe  of  the  pine  woods. 

"  Come  and  see,"  he  said  gently.  "  Poor  boy 
he  's  had  a  bad  fall." 

* '  What !     Is  he  here  —  with  you  ?  " 
"  Yes  —  yes,"  he  answered,  with  an  absent  and 
melancholy  air. 

He  led  her  a  few  paces  into  the  trees,  and  there, 
seated  on  a  fallen  trunk,  they  saw  the  victim  of 
fate  smoking  a  cigarette  with  a  meditative  air.  He 
sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  light  in  his  eye  that  might 
have  been  the  result  of  some  acute  disaster,  but 
scarcely  looked  like  it. 

"  Frank,  my  boy,"  said  his  father,  "  I  have  just 
been  explaining  to  Ellen  that  you  have  fallen  " — 
he  turned  to  the  girl  with  a  merry  air  — ' '  in 
love!  "  he  chuckled,  and  the  next  moment  they 
were  listening  to  his  flying  footsteps  and  looking 
at  one  another. 


246 


CHAPTER  II 

HIGH  overhead  the  pines  murmured  gently,  and 
Mr.  Walkingshaw,  strolling  through  the  quiet 
colonnades  below  in  solitude  and  shade,  heard  the 
strangest  messages  whispered  down  by  those 
riotous  tree-tops.  He  was  no  longer  even  middle- 
aged!  Or  at  least  his  heart  certainly  was  not. 
It  seemed  to  keep  a  decade  or  so  younger  than  his 
body,  and  Heaven  knew  that  was  growing  younger 
fast  enough !  At  this  rate  how  much  longer  could 
he  play  the  beneficent  parent?  Good  Lord,  he 
had  jolly  nearly  fallen  head  over  ears  in  love  with 
sweet  Ellen  Berstoun  in  the  course  of  five  minutes' 
conversation !  She  was  n  't  a  day  too  old  for  Heriot 
W.  That  's  to  say,  he  could  do  with  a  lassie  of  that 
age  fine,  and,  by  Gad,  he  shouldn't  wonder  but 
Ellen  might  n 't  have  rather  cottoned  to  him  if  her 
heart  had  been  free.  She  looked  deuced  coy  when 
she  thought  he  was  proposing.  Yes,  a  girl  like 
Ellen  was  the  ticket  for  him.  But  in  that  case, 
what  about  M^dge  ? 

For  several  minutes  Mr.  Walkingshaw  stood 
247 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

very  solemnly  studying  the  bark  on  an  entirely 
ordinary  pine,  concluding  his  scrutiny  by  hitting 
it  a  sharp  smack  with  his  walking-stick  and  turn- 
ing away  from  the  sight  of  it  with  apparent  dis- 
taste. However,  a  minute  or  two  later  he  seemed 
to  find  one  he  liked  better,  for  he  placed  his  back 
against  it,  removed  his  hat,  and  gazed  upwards  at 
the  softly  murmuring  branches.  Once  more  their 
whispers  made  him  smile.  Sufficient  for  the  day 
were  the  difficulties  thereof !  That  was  the  way  to 
look  at  it.  Meanwhile,  the  spring  was  young,  and 
the  little  flowers  in  the  wood  were  young,  and  the 
blue  sky  that  showed  in  peeps  through  the  swing- 
ing tree-tops  looked  as  young  as  any  of  them,  and 
certainly  it  was  a  young  and  lusty  breeze  that 
swayed  them.  By  Jingo,  what  excellent  company 
they  all  were  for  him ! 

And  then  he  heard  another  murmuring  sound, 
coming  this  time  from  behind  him.     He  held  his 
breath  and  caught  the  words  — 
"  Ellen!    I  love  you  —  I  love  you!  " 
He  peeped  round  the  tree,  and  for  an  instant 
saw    them.     A    most    gratifying    tribute    to    his 
diplomacy  —  but   devilish  disturbing  to   a  young 
fellow  without  a  girl !     Hurriedly  he  snapped  a 
twig;  he  snapped  another;  he  broke  a  branch;  he 
248 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

whistled,  he  coughed,  he  shouted.  And  then  they 
looked  up,  vaguely  surprised  to  find  there  was 
another  person  in  the  world. 

"  Well,  Frank,"  said  his  father,  as  they  walked 
back  together  towards  their  inn,  "  are  you  not 
feeling  happy  now,  my  boy,  eh  ?  " 

"  Happy!  "  exclaimed  Frank.  "  I  'm  stupefied 
with  happiness!  " 

As  Heriot  Walkingshaw  strode  between  the 
spring  breeze  and  the  murmuring  pines,  his  son's 
arm  through  his,  listening  to  his  gratitude  and 
Ellen's  praises,  he  too  felt  happier  than  ever  be- 
fore in  his  life.  What  a  lot  of  pleasure  he  had 
learned  how  to  give.  And  the  way  to  give  it  was 
so  simple  once  you  found  it  out.  Apparently  you 
had  merely  to  get  in  sympathy  with  people,  and 
then  do  the  things  which  naturally,  under  those 
circumstances,  you  would  both  like  to  be  done. 
There  was  really  nothing  in  it  at  all;  still,  it  was 
jolly  well  worth  doing. 

Only  as  they  neared  the  inn  did  a  qualm  begin 
to  trouble  Frank. 

"  It  's  deuced  rough  luck  on  Andrew,  losing  that 
girl,"  he  said  suddenly.  "  Hang  it,  it  would  kill 
me!" 

"  It  's  only  losing  his  money  that  '11  ever  hurt 
249 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Andrew,"  replied  his  father  cheerfully.  "  Don't 
you  worry  about  what  he  11  say." 

Unfortunately,  Mr.  Walkingshaw  forgot  that  the 
provision  for  this  happy  marriage  was,  in  fact, 
coming  indirectly  from  Andrew's  pocket.  Even 
the  youngest  of  us  cannot  foresee  everything,  or 
Heriot  would  not  have  been  humming  "  Gin  a 
laddie  kiss  a  lassie,"  quite  so  lightheartedly. 

"  I  must  say  I  funk  having  it  out  with  him," 
remarked  Frank. 

"  Just  you  leave  it  all  to  me.  I  'm  a  match  for 
Andrew  any  day." 

It  would  have  been  well  if  Mr.  Walkingshaw 
had  "  touched  wood  "  as  he  made  this  vaunt;  but 
at  that  moment  his  confidence  was  so  serene  that 
he  felt  master  of  any  emergency  conceivable  by 
man. 

"  Andrew  's  not  the  mate  for  Ellen,"  he  said 
presently.  "  The  young  are  for  each  other, 
Frank;  that  's  the  law  of  nature." 

He  smiled  to  himself. 

"  I  learnt  that  this  afternoon.  By  Jove,  what 
a  pretty  girl  Ellen  is!  " 

And  then  again  his  young  heart  remembered  the 
sympathetic  widow,  and  he  stopped  smiling. 


250 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  backbone  of  our  country  is  that  band  of 
civic  heroes  who,  when  turmoil  rages  and  disaster 
threatens,  are  the  last  men  to  desert  the  desk. 
In  this  glorious  company  Andrew  Walkingshaw 
was  numbered.  His  father  might  tear  up  and 
down  the  country  like  a  disreputable  whirlwind, 
his  widowed  relative  fume  and  plot,  his  sister 
disgrace  the  family  by  an  unsuitable  engagement, 
his  betrothed  leave  his  affectionate  letters  un- 
answered, his  own  soul  writhe  in  decorous  anguish 
at  these  calamities,  but  Casabianca  himself  was 
not  more  faithful  to  his  post  than  he.  It  is  true, 
indeed,  that  he  had  once  tried  the  alternative 
policy  and  chased  that  cyclone,  but  he  had  taken 
to  heart  the  lesson,  and  thenceforth  closed  his  ears 
to  disquieting  rumors,  his  eyes  to  distressing 
symptoms,  and  went  about  his  work,  if  possible, 
more  conscientiously  than  ever.  That  was  the 
proper  way  to  get  through  business  —  conscien- 
tiously. He  was  sickened  with  the  people  (clients 
of  some  eminence,  but  evidently  with  a  screw  loose) 
251 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

who  kept  deferring  their  more  important  concerns 
till  the  senior  partner  returned  with  his  infernal 
headlong  methods.  Let  them  wait  if  they  liked! 
Let  them  take  their  business  elsewhere  if  they 
were  such  fools!  Deliberately  and  calmly  he  had 
washed  his  hands  of  his  senior  partner.  That  was 
the  end  of  him  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  said 
Andrew  to  himself.  But  alas !  you  may  wash  your 
hands  of  a  tornado,  but  supposing  it  retorts  by 
blowing  down  your  house  ? 

It  was  about  nine  in  the  evening,  and  he  sat 
by  himself,  severely  scrutinizing  the  pleadings 
drawn  up  by  his  clerk  for  a  forthcoming  case, 
connected  with  so  large  a  sum  of  money  that  it 
was  a  pleasure  merely  to  read  the  imposing  figures. 
The  ladies  were  upstairs  in  the  drawing-room.  So 
long  as  Mrs.  Dunbar  was  among  them,  he  was  not 
likely  to  show  his  face  there. 

The  door  opened,  and  he  turned,  frowning  at 
the  interruption,  and  then  sprang  up  with  a 
troubled  eye.  It  was  his  father  certainly;  but 
what  a  remarkable  change  since  he  had  seen  him 
last!  For  the  first  time  Andrew  realized  the  full 
enormity  of  his  conduct  in  growing  younger.  His 
very  appearance  had  become  a  crying  scandal. 
252 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

' '  Sweating  away  at  your  old  papers  ?  ' '  inquired 
Heriot  pleasantly. 

Andrew  stiffly  resumed  his  seat. 

"  Yes,  I  am  busy,"  he  replied,  and  took  up  the 
pleadings  again. 

But  his  father  ignored  the  hint.  Straddling 
comfortably  before  the  fire,  he  remarked  — 

"  Frank  and  I  have  been  up  to  Perthshire." 

Andrew  looked  up  quickly,  but  merely  an- 
swered — 

"  Oh,  indeed?  " 

"  We  Ve  been  seeing  Ellen." 

"  What  about?  " 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  threw  himself  into  a  chair. 

"  My  boy,"  said  he,  with  the  air  of  friendly 
commiseration  which  he  felt  that  the  occasion  un- 
doubtedly demanded,  "  I  find  I  was  right  about 
your  rival." 

Andrew  remained  calm,  though  not  quite  so 
calm  as  before. 

"  Do  you  mean  there  's  some  one  else  after 
her?  " 

"He's  got  her." 

The  calm  departed. 

' '  Got !    What  the  deuce  d '  ye  mean  ?  ' ' 
253 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  She  has  chosen  another,  Andrew." 

' '  Chosen !  But  she  's  no  choice  left  her.  She  's 
engaged  to  me." 

' '  She  was  engaged  to  you.  She  's  now  engaged 
to  him." 

' '  To  him  f  Who  the  dev  —  er  —  what  are  you 
driving  at?  Who  's  the  man?  " 

"  Frank." 

"  Frank!  " 

Andrew  stared  at  his  father  incredulously. 

' '  I  don 't  believe  a  word  of  it. ' ' 

' '  Well,  you  may  ask  Frank  if  you  like ;  but  I 
assure  you  you  can  take  my  word  for  it. ' ' 

It  was  characteristic  of  Andrew's  robust  mind 
that,  instead  of  wasting  time  in  noisy  vaporings 
and  sentimental  sorrow,  it  seized  at  once  the  weak 
point  in  the  case. 

"  But  he  can't  afford  to  marry." 

"  Oh,  I  11  see  to  that." 

"  You  'II  see!  "  shouted  Andrew.  "  Do  you 
mean  to  say  you  've  had  a  finger  in  the  pie  ?  ' ' 

"  Four  fingers  and  a  thumb,"  smiled  his  parent. 

Once  more  Andrew,  without  waste  of  words  in 
expostulation  or  commentary,  summarized  the 
situation  in  a  sentence  — 

•*'  This  is  fair  damnable!  " 
254 


"  Come,  come,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Walk- 
ingshaw  soothingly.  "  I  owe  you  an  explanation, 
of  course,  but  when  you  've  heard  it,  I  know  you  '11 
agree  I  've  done  the  right  thing." 

"  An  explanation!  "  exclaimed  Andrew  sardon- 
ically. "  Go  on,  let  's  hear  it," 

"  I  can  give  you  the  gist  of  it  in  a  sentence: 
she  loves  Frank,  and  she  doesn't  love  you.  Now, 
in  that  case,  which  of  you  ought  she  to  marry  ?  ' ' 

"  That  's  nothing  to  do  with  it—" 

"  What!  love  's  nothing  to  do  with  marriage?  " 

"  When  a  woman  's  once  engaged,  she  's  got  to 
implement  her  promise." 

' '  Whether  it  makes  her  happy  or  miserable  ?  ' ' 

'  *  Who  was  miserable,  I  'd  like  to  know  ?  ' ' 

"  Ellen." 

"It's  the  first  I  've  heard  of  it." 

1 '  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  could  n  't  see  it  for* 
yourself?  " 

"  No,  I  could  not;  and  even  if  she  was,  there  's 
not  the  shadow  of  an  excuse  for  your  conduct. 
You  're  just  making  a  mess  of  everything  you 
meddle  with.  Getting  me  jilted  like  this!  What 
do  you  suppose  people  will  say?  What  '11  they  be 
thinking  of  me  ?  Oh,  good  Lord !  ' ! 

The  unhappy  young  man  brooded  somberly. 
255 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  lit  a  cigar,  and  then  settled 
himself  down  to  remove  by  gentle  argument  the 
cloud  that  temporarily  obscured  his  son's  serenity. 

"  Just  look  at  the  thing  for  a  moment  in  a 
quiet  and  reasonable  light,  Andrew.  Happiness, 
as  you  are  well  aware,  is  the  chief  aim  of  humanity. 
Damn  it,  our  religion  teaches  us  that  —  or  practi- 
cally that.  A  kind  of  warm  and  amiable  gleeful- 
ness  —  that  's  the  ideal.  Now,  how  can  a  young 
girl  like  Ellen  be  happy  or  gleeful  married  to  a 
sober  old  codger  like  you,  eh?  Man,  the  thing  's 
clean  impossible.  She  's  no  more  suited  to  you 
than  a  lace  cover  to  a  coal-scuttle.  Well,  then 
what  's  the  obvious  thing  to  do?  Hand  her  over 
to  a  brisk  young  fellow  who  can  do  her  justice, 
of  course.  Besides,  just  think  of  your  own 
brother  pining  away  in  the  —  what  do  they  call  it  ? 
—  torrid  zone,  all  for  love  of  a  girl  who  's  pining 
away  for  love  of  him.  The  thing  's  totally  illog- 
ical. A  society  of  hedgehogs  would  have  more 
sense  than  to  allow  an  arrangement  like  that.  You 
see  my  point  now,  don't  you?  " 

"  I  've  heard  you  say  with  your  own  lips,"  re- 
torted Andrew,  "  that  all  a  girl  required  was  a 
comfortable  home  and  a  husband  who  knew  his  own 
mind." 

256 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

' '  But  you  must  remember, ' '  explained  his  father, 
"  I  was  an  old  fool  then." 

Andrew  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  wry  and  bit- 
ter face. 

"  You  certainly  haven't  the  qualities  of  age 
now.  I  never  heard  such  daft-like  rubbish  in  my 
life.  For  Heaven's  sake,  just  try  to  use  any  com- 
mon sense  you  've  got  left.  Frank  will  never 
have  enough  money  to  keep  her  properly. ' ' 

"  Ah,  but  naturally  I  mean  to  alter  my  arrange- 
ments." 

Gradually  the  full  possibilities  of  the  situation 
were  revealing  themselves  to  the  well-regulated 
mind  of  the  junior  partner. 

"  You  mean  to  change  your  will?  " 

"I  do." 

Yet  another  horrid  possibility  showed  its  head. 

"  And  are  you  going  to  alter  Jean's  share  too, 
so  that  this  precious  Vernon  fellow  may  have 
something  to  squander  ?  ' ' 

"  Something  respectable  to  live  on,"  corrected 
his  parent.  ' '  You  must  n  't  starve  art,  you  know. ' ' 

Andrew  stared  at  him  in  silence,  and  when  he 
spoke,  it  was  with  the  air  of  a  much-wronged 
worm  which  has  deliberately  resolved  to  turn  at 
last. 

«  257 


' '  I  'm  not  wanting  any  of  your  Ellen  Berstouns. 
If  she's  played  this  trick  on  me,  that  's  enough  of 
her.  But  I  tell  you  plainly  I  'm  not  going  to  let 
you  rob  me  to  keep  a  pack  of  worthless  painters 
and  people  out  of  the  gutter,  without  taking  some 
steps.  I  warn  you  of  that. ' ' 

"  My  dear  Andrew,"  said  his  father  reproach- 
fully, "  that  's  hardly  the  attitude  of  a  professing 
Christian.  Just  think,  now;  is  it?  You  11  easily 
find  a  decent,  quiet  woman  with  a  bit  of  money 
and  no  objection  to  hearing  every  day  for  an  hour 
or  two  how  you  Ve  been  worried  by  your  clients 
and  swindled  by  your  father,  and  I  do  honestly 
believe  you  '11  get  as  near  happiness  as  you  're 
capable  of.  That  's  common  sense,  now ;  is  n  't 
it?" 

The  slamming  of  the  door  answered  him. 

"  What  a  sulky  fellow  he  is!  "  said  Heriot  to 
himself. 

Yet  so  conscious  was  he  of  the  rectitude  of  his 
intentions,  and  so  confiding  had  his  disposition 
grown,  that  it  never  crossed  his  mind  to  beware 
of  an  infuriated  lawyer.  Besides,  when  Andrew 
had  slept  over  it,  he  would  surely  realize  how  un- 
answerable were  his  father's  arguments. 

"  We  '11  see  the  old  stick-in-the-mud  dancing  at 
258 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Frank's  wedding!  "  thought  he.  "  There  's  no 
vice  in  Andrew;  only  a  bit  of  obstinacy.  It  's  all 
bark  and  no  bite  with  him." 

With  these  amiable  reflections  he  speedily  con- 
soled himself  for  the  discomfort  of  any  little  tem- 
porary friction.  And  then  the  door  opened  gently. 


CHAPTER  IV 

"  I  HEAED  you  had  come  back  again,"  said  Mrs. 
Dunbar. 

She  closed  the  door  as  gently  as  she  had  opened 
it.  The  action  pathetically  expressed  the  quiet 
sorrow  of  a  much-wronged  woman's  heart. 

' '  Yes, ' '  said  Heriot  gallantly,  "  I  'm  back  again 
to  Scotland,  home  and  beauty.  Ha,  ha!  Now 
that  was  quite  pretty,  was  n  't  it  ?  " 

But  her  black  eyes  declined  to  sparkle,  as  she 
glided  silently  to  a  chair.  Out  of  the  corner  of 
his  own  eye  her  lover  looked  at  her  critically. 

"  I  'm  delighted  to  see  you  again,  Madge,"  he 
went  on ;  but  his  words  had  a  hollow  ring,  and  his 
eye  continued  to  express  more  doubt  than  passion. 

"  Have  you  no  apology  to  offer  me?  "  She  in- 
quired, with  the  same  ominous  calm. 

"  For  what,  my  dear  lady?  " 

She  started  a  little  and  glanced  at  him  appre- 
hensively. "  My  dear  lady  "  hardly  indicated 
love's  divinest  frenzy. 

"  For  treating  me  shamefully!  " 
260 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  This  is  strong  language,"  he  smiled  indul- 
gently. "  Tell  me  now,  I  say,  just  tell  me  what 
I  Ve  done." 

Thus  invited,  the  lady  described  his  conduct  in 
leaving  her  alone  and  unprotected  in  a  London 
hotel,  to  the  neglect  of  his  affectionate  assurances 
and  the  shame  and  confusion  of  herself,  in  language 
which  did  no  more  than  justice  to  the  theme. 

"  But  I  left  Jean  to  look  after  you,"  he  pro- 
tested. 

"  When  I  want  your  daughter  to  look  after 
me  I  shall  ask  you  for  her  assistance,"  she  replied 
tartly.  "  You  broke  your  word  to  me,  and  you 
can't  deny  it." 

"  I  do  deny  it,"  he  replied,  with  dignity.  "  I 
told  you  I  should  travel  north — " 

' '  Oh !  "  she  interrupted,  with  scathing  contempt, 
"  you  were  very  straightforward  and  gentlemanly, 
I  know!  " 

He  looked  at  her  ever  more  critically.  A  recol- 
lection of  Ellen  and  the  pine-wood  returned 
forcibly. 

' '  Put  it  as  you  will, ' '  he  replied  philosophically, 
and  turned  towards  the  fire. 

She  watched  him  jealously. 

"  But  why  did  you  run  away?  "  she  persisted. 
261 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

' '  Where  have  you  been  since  ?     Heriot,   I  insist 
upon  knowing  that  —  I  insist !  ' ' 

She  rose  and  came  towards  him.  He  took  her 
hand  and  pressed  it  gently. 

"  I  shall  tell  you  all,"  he  said,  as  he  led  her 
back  to  her  chair  and  drew  another  towards  it. 
When  they  were  about  three  feet  apart  he  sat  down 
himself  and  bent  confidentially  towards  her.  Yet 
he  did  not  attempt  to  bridge  entirely  the  interven- 
ing space. 

"  I  have  been  up  to  Perthshire,"  he  began,  "  as- 
sisting dear  Ellen  Berstoun  to  break  off  her  en- 
gagement with  Andrew." 

Mrs.  Dunbar  sat  up  with  a  much  more  alert  ex- 
pression. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  she  said,  with  deci- 
sion. 

"  I  discovered  that  Frank  and  she  loved  one 
another.  I  am  very  glad  to  say  he  is  now  engaged 
to  her  instead." 

She  smiled  at  last. 

"  Do  tell  me  what  Andrew  said!  " 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  I  'm  afraid  he  is  somewhat  unreasonably  an- 
noyed." 

She  smiled  more  brightly  still. 
262 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

' '  How  very  good  for  him !  Really,  Heriot,  you 
have  done  a  very  sensible  thing  indeed. ' ' 

Heriot  smiled  back. 

"  It  seemed  to  me,"  said  he,  "  that  there  was 
really  too  much  disparity  in  years.  The  young 
should  marry  the  young,  Madge." 

' '  I  agree  with  you  entirely. ' ' 

It  was  his  smile  that  now  seemed  to  indicate  an 
increasing  satisfaction. 

"  You  agree  also  that  under  those  circumstances 
it  is  no  longer  the  duty  of  two  people  to  marry, 
even  if  they  have  unfortunately  become  engaged  ?  ' ' 

"  I  think  it  would  only  lead  to  wretchedness 
if  they  did.  Honestly,  I  don't  feel  in  the  least 
sorry  for  Andrew.  In  fact,  I  thoroughly  agree 
that  people  ought  to  have  their  engagements  broken 
off  for  them  if  they  have  n  't  the  sense  to  see  they 
are  unsuitable  for  themselves." 

Heriot  received  this  assurance  with  evident 
pleasure.  His  manner  grew  more  confidential  still. 

"  Madge,"  he  said,  "  I  think  it  is  time  I  made 
you  a  very  serious  confession." 

Her  smile  departed. 

* '  You  may  have  noticed, ' '  he  continued,  ' '  a  cer- 
tain bloom,  so  to  speak,  upon  me,  a  sort  of  fresh- 
ness, and  so  on.  Madge,  it  is  the  bloom  of  youth." 
263 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

She  grew  uneasy. 

"  Oh,  really?  " 

"It  is  a  literal,  physical  fact.  I  am  rapidly 
approaching  thirty. ' ' 

She  moved  into  the  farthest  corner  of  her  chair, 
but  made  no  other  comment. 

"  You  will  thus  see  that  it  is  merely  a  question 
of  time  before  there  will  be  an  even  greater  dis- 
parity of  years  between  you  and  me  than  between 
Ellen  and  Andrew." 

Her  expression  changed  entirely. 

"  Heriot!  "  she  exclaimed  indignantly. 

"  Yes,  Madge,  I  grieve  deeply  to  resign  the  hopes 
of  happiness  I  had  formed  on  a  life  spent  in  your 
society,  but  alas !  I  must.  Your  adult  charms  can- 
not be  thrown  away  upon  an  unappreciative  youth ; 
it  would  be  a  tragedy. ' ' 

"  You  are  many  years  older  than  I!  " 

"  I  was  a  short  time  ago,  but  to-day  we  are 
roughly  speaking,  twins  —  though  with  this  differ- 
ence, that  as  I  am  looking  forward  to  a  strenuous 
youth,  and  you  to  a  handsome  old  age,  naturally 
I  feel  a  chicken  compared  with  you.  But  then 
think  of  the  next  year  or  two,  when  I  shall  per- 
haps be  playing  football,  and  you  will  find  it  no 
longer  possible  to  keep  your  gray  hairs  so 
264 


artistically  brushed  beneath  your  black  tresses: 
think  of  that,  Madge !  " 

' '  Are  you  out  of  your  mind  ?  ' '  she  gasped. 

4<  On  the  contrary,  I  have  never  been  clearer- 
headed  in  my  life." 

"  Then,"  she  exclaimed  wrathfully,  "  you  are 
merely  inventing  a  ridiculous  fable  to  excuse  your 
shuffling  out  of  your  engagement !  ' ' 

"  My  dear  lady,"  he  replied  pacifically,  "  shall 
I  jump  over  this  chair  to  convince  you?  " 

"  Nothing  would  convince  me." 

"  Ah,"  he  said,  with  a  friendly  smile,  "  I  see 
that  you  want  to  have  me  whether  I  'm  a  suitable 
mate  or  not,  whether  my  feelings  have  changed — " 

"  I  certainly  do  not!  "  she  interrupted. 

"  Then  in  that  case  shall  we  call  it  off  ?  " 

He  rose  and  picked  up  an  evening  paper. 

She  tried  the  resource  of  tears.  The  spectacle 
of  a  handsome  woman  weeping  had  brought  him 
temporarily  to  his  senses  once  before.  But  this 
time,  though  his  manner  was  as  kind  as  any  widow 
could  desire,  his  words  brought  the  unfortunate 
lady  no  more  consolation  than  his  conduct. 

"  My  dear  Madge,  just  look  at  the  thing  sensibly. 
Surely  you  are  old  enough  by  this  time  to  take  a 
practical  view  of  what  after  all  is  a  very  simple 
265 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

situation.  You  laid  down  the  law  yourself  not 
five  minutes  ago,  and  laid  it  down  very  justly.  If 
two  people  are  unsuitably  mated,  the  engagement 
should  be  broken  off.  Very  well;  just  try  to 
realize  for  a  moment  what  it  means  to  marry  a  man 
who  is  getting  fuller  and  fuller  of  beans  all  the 
time  —  at  your  age,  mark  you.  The  fact  is,  we  are 
just  like  two  trains  rushing  in  opposite  directions. 
For  a  moment  we  may  be  side  by  side,  and  then  — 
whit !  —  we  have  passed  each  other  and  are  getting 
a  couple  of  miles  farther  apart  every  minute. ' ' 

Even  this  graphic  allegory  failed  to  dry  her 
tears. 

' '  You  are  deserting  me  —  you  are  breaking  my 
heart!  "  she  wailed. 

' '  Hush,  hush, ' '  he  answered  soothingly ;  ' '  on  the 
contrary,  I  am  sparing  you  —  sparing  you  no  end 
of  anxiety." 

She  looked  at  him  like  a  tragedy  queen. 

"  Have  you  no  thought  of  how  my  reputation 
will  suffer,  Heriot?  " 

"  How  can  it  suffer?  Nobody  knows  we  've 
been  engaged. ' ' 

"  Do  you  suppose  they  have  n't  guessed?  " 

"  Not  from  anything  I  've  said  or  done,  I  can 
assure  you." 

266 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

She  sprang  up  indignantly. 

"  Have  you  no  sense  of  honor?  " 

"  Look  here,"  he  answered,  with  his  most  in- 
gratiating manner,  "  I  '11  be  a  son  to  you,  Madge 
—  an  affectionate,  dutiful — " 

' '  You  coward !  ' '  she  cried. 

Heriot  found  himself  alone  in  his  library  witb 
his  engagement  satisfactorily  ended. 


267 


CHAPTER  V 

ANDREW  had  retired  to  the  dining-room.  Once 
the  day's  eating  was  over,  this  apartment,  with 
its  vast  space  of  dignified  gloom,  its  black  marble 
mantelpiece,  and  the  cloth  of  indigo  plushette 
which  now  covered  the  table,  made  the  most  con- 
genial refuge  conceivable.  His  thoughts  were  in 
exact  harmony  with  everything  there,  from  the 
Venetian  blinds  to  the  portrait  of  his  great-grand- 
mother. The  only  discordant  element  was  the 
presence  of  a  few  errant  bread-crumbs,  and  hap- 
pily they  were  under  the  table. 

It  was  to  this  lair  that  he  was  tracked  by  Madge 
Dunbar.  She  never  paused  to  ask  if  she  disturbed 
him,  or  gave  him  any  chance  of  protest,  but  advanc- 
ing straight  up  to  him,  exclaimed  — 

"  Your  father  is  off  his  head !  " 

The  junior  partner  eyed  her  warily,  divided  be- 
tween suspicion  and  a  glow  of  sympathy  with  her 
opinion. 

"  What  has  he  done  now?  "  he  inquired  gloomily. 
268 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  He  has  treated  me  exactly  as  he  has  treated 
you!" 

The  sympathy  deepened;  the  suspicion  began  to 
ooze  away ;  but  all  he  remarked  was,  "  Oh  ?  " 

He  was  indeed  a  magnificently  cautious  man. 

"  What  can  we  do?  "  she  cried. 

Andrew  scrutinized  her  carefully.  She  might 
be  fibbing;  she  might  be  up  to  some  of  her  tricks 
again ;  this  might  even  be  a  move  arranged  with 
his  father.  One  could  not  be  too  prudent. 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do?  "he  asked. 

' '  Bring  him  to  his  senses  if  it  's  possible :  if  not 
—  Oh,  Andrew,  his  conduct  is  infamous !  I  don 't 
care  what  we  do  to  punish  —  I  mean  to  restrain 
him." 

At  last,  after  many  days'  abstinence,  the  junior 
partner  smiled.  It  was  not  a  very  wide,  nor  in  the 
least  a  merry  smile ;  his  cheeks  bulged  only  slightly 
under  its  gentle  pressure,  and  the  satisfaction 
which  smiles  traditionally  notify  seemed  savored 
with  a  squeeze  or  two  of  lemon.  But  it  marked 
the  beginning  of  a  new  coalition,  an  ominous  dis- 
turbance of  the  balance  of  power. 

"  That  is  exactly  the  point  I  have  under  con- 
sideration myself,"  he  said.     "  The  difficulty  is, 
how  is  it  to  be  managed  ?  ' ' 
269 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

She  seated  herself  within  twelve  feet  of  him,  and 
yet  he  did  not  shrink  from  her  now  with  modest 
mistrust. 

"  It  seems  to  me  perfectly  obvious  what  we 
should  do.  Just  offer  him  an  alternative." 

"  What  alternative?  "  asked  Andrew. 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Walkingshaw  was  spending  one 
of  the  happiest  evenings  he  remembered.  There 
was  indeed  some  slight  constraint  in  the  drawing- 
room  so  long  as  his  sister  remained  there,  but 
when,  after  a  series  of  sighs  which  punctuated 
some  twenty  minutes'  pointed  silence,  she  at  last 
bade  them  a  depressed  good-night,  the  three  happy 
lovers  gave  rein  to  their  hearts.  Heriot  gave  the 
loosest  rein  of  all.  It  almost  seemed  as  if  a  lover 
set  at  liberty  was  even  happier  than  a  lover  just 
engaged.  He  had  that  air  of  animated  relief 
noticeable  in  the  escaped  victims  of  a  conscientious 
dentist.  As  for  his  children,  they  adored  him  little 
less  than  they  adored  two  other  people  who  were 
not  there. 

Yet  once  or  twice  Jean  fell  thoughtful.  At  last 
she  said  — 

"  I  wonder  whether  we  ought  to  go  out  to  the 
Comyns'  to-morrow  after  all?  " 
270 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  My  dear  girl,  why  not?  You  '11  have  a  very 
pleasant  time  there ;  and  anyhow,  it  's  too  late  to 
write  and  tell  them  you  aren't  coming." 

"  We  could  wire  in  the  morning,"  she  said. 
"  Frank,  do  you  think  we  ought  to  go?  " 

He  looked  a  little  surprised,  but  answered 
readily,  "  not  if  you  don't  want  to." 

' '  But  why  not  go  ?  "  their  father  repeated. 

She  hesitated.  "  Are  you  quite  sure  Andrew 
and  Madge  won 't  —  won 't  try  to  be  unpleasant  ?  ' ' 

"  Let  them  try  if  they  like!  "  laughed  Heriot. 
"  But  I  assure  you,  my  dear  girl,  I  was  so  reason- 
able —  so  unanswerable,  in  fact  —  that  they  simply 
can't  feel  annoyed  for  more  than  a  few  hours. 
Hang  it,  they  are  very  nice  good  people  at  heart. 
Just  give  'em  time  to  let  the  proper  point  of  view 
sink  in,  and  they  '11  be  chirpy  as  sparrows  again. 
Besides,  what  good  could  you  do  by  staying  at 
home  ?  The  Comyns  have  a  nice  place ;  you  '11  have 
a  capital  time.  I  insist  on  your  going. ' ' 

' '  Very  well,  then, ' '  said  Jean. 

Yet  she  could  hardly  picture  Andrew  and  her 
cousin  quite  as  chirpy  as  sparrows. 

And  all  this  time,  beneath  the  very  floor  of  the 
room  where  they  laughed,  the  plans  of  the  coalition 
ripened. 

271 


CHAPTER  VI 

IN  the  course  of  breakfast  upon  the  following 
morning,  Heriot  startled  his  junior  partner  by 
announcing  his  intention  of  putting  in  a  strenuous 
day's  work  at  the  office.  Andrew  exchanged  a 
curious  glance  with  Mrs.  Dunbar,  and  then  merely 
inquired  — 

"  When  will  you  be  back?  " 

' '  Four  o  'clock, ' '  said  Heriot  cheerfully.  ' '  Quite 
long  enough  hours  for  a  man  of  my  age  "  (he 
smiled  humorously  at  his  son).  "  Of  course 
there  's  sure  to  be  a  lot  of  things  to  put  right,  and 
so  on  "  (Andrew  raised  a  startled  eye),  "  but  I  '11 
polish  'em  off  by  four. ' ' 

He  ate  a  remarkably  hearty  breakfast  and  strode 
off  blithely,  this  time  a  few  minutes  ahead  of  his 
partner.  It  was  an  even  more  singular  thing  that 
Andrew  should  linger  to  confer  once  more  with  the 
lady  he  had  so  lately  regarded  as  the  impersonation 
of  everything  suspicious. 

Another  curious  incident  happened  later  in  the 
day.  At  lunch-time  the  junior  partner  left  the 
272 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

office,  and,  without  giving  an  explanation,  remained 
absent  through  the  afternoon.  Not  that  Heriot 
missed  him.  He  smoked  and  wrote  and  rallied  Mjr. 
Thomieson,  and  dictated  letters  which  left  his  con- 
fidential clerk  divided  between  the  extremes  of  ad- 
miration for  their  shrewdness  and  horror  at  the 
terse  and  lively  style  in  which  they  were  couched; 
in  short,  he  got  through  a  day 's  work  that  sent  him 
home  at  four  o  'clock  in  the  best  of  spirits. 

Andrew  met  him  in  the  hall. 

' '  Hullo, ' '  said  Heriot,  * '  where  have  you  been  all 
this  time?  " 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you  for  a  minute,"  his  son 
replied,  and  then,  as  his  father  turned  naturally 
towards  the  library  door,  stayed  him.  "  There  's 
some  one  in  there.  Just  come  into  the  dining-room 
for  a  moment. ' ' 

"  Who  's  in  there?  " 

Andrew  waited  till  he  had  got  him  behind  the 
closed  door,  and  then  said  very  gravely  — 

"  It  's  Mrs.  Dunbar  and  a  friend  of  hers." 

"  What  friend?  — Not  old  Charlie  Munro?  " 

"  A  Mr.  Brown.  Possibly  you  Ve  not  heard  of 
him  before,  but  I  understand  he  's  a  connection  of 
her  late  husband's  family.  She  's  asked  him  to 
come  and  meet  vou. ' ' 

is  273 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

The  exceeding  solemnity  of  his  manner  obviously 
affected  Heriot  's  high  spirits. 

"  What  's  up?  "  he  inquired. 

"  I  should  hardly  think  you  would  need  to  ask 
that,  considering  what  has  passed  between  you.  In 
fact,  I  gather  that  they  want  to  be  satisfied  there  's 
some  reasonable  explanation  of  your  conduct. ' ' 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  gently  whistled. 

"  Oh,  that  's  the  game,  is  it?  "Well,  I  suppose 
I  '11  just  have  to  tell  him  the  simple  truth,  in  justice 
to  myself." 

His  son  heartily  agreed. 

"  It  's  the  only  thing  to  be  done,"  said  he,  "  the 
only  honest  course  left,  so  far  as  I  can  see.  Just 
make  a  clean  breast  of  everything,  and  you  may 
trust  me  to  confirm  all  you  say. ' ' 

"  My  dear  boy,  you  're  devilish  good.  I  'm 
afraid  I  really  have  n  't  been  as  appreciative  lately 
as  I  ought.  You  're  talking  like  a  sportsman  now. 
Come  on,  we  '11  go  in  and  tackle  'em  together." 

He  took  his  son's  arm  and  gave  him  a  friendly 
smile  as  they  crossed  the  hall;  but  the  seriousness 
of  the  situation  seemed  to  prevent  Andrew  from 
returning  these  evidences  of  comradeship. 

The  injured  lady  met  her  betrayer  with  marked 
constraint.  She  seemed  to  anticipate  little  pleasure 
274 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

from  the  interview,  but  had  evidently  made  up  her 
mind  to  go  through  with  it  as  a  duty  she  owed  her 
reputation  and  her  friend  Mr.  Brown.  This  gen- 
tleman was  grave,  elderly,  and  of  an  unmistakably 
professional  aspect.  In  a  vague  way  Heriot  fan- 
cied he  had  seen  his  face  before,  though  he  could 
not  recollect  where. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Walkingshaw  genially,  "  here 
we  all  are ;  and  now  what  's  the  business  before  the 
meeting?  " 

"  I  understand,"  replied  Mr.  Brown,  in  a  calm 
and  gentle  voice,  "  that  you  have  broken  off  your 
engagement  with  this  lady.    Now,  as  a  —  well,  I 
may  say,  as  an  interested  friend  of  Mrs.  Dunbar,' 
I  should  very  much  like  to  have  your  reasons. ' ' 

Heriot  smiled. 

"  Will  you  undertake  to  believe  them?  " 

"  I  undertake  to  give  them  my  closest  profes- 
sional consideration,  whatever  they  are." 

"  May  I  ask  if  you  are  a  lawyer?  " 

Mr.  Brown  coughed  once  or  twice  before  reply- 
ing. 

' '  He  is, ' '  said  Andrew  decisively,  and  Mr.  Brown 
seemed  content  to  let  this  reply  pass  as  his  own. 

"  You  can  talk  to  me  with  the  utmost  frank- 
ness," he  said;  "  in  fact,  I  infinitely  prefer  it." 
275 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Well,"  began  Heriot,  "  the  simple  fact  of  the 
matter  is  that  I  am  growing  rapidly  younger. ' ' 

"  Ah?  "  commented  Mr.  Brown. 

It  was  curious  that  he  should  exchange  a  quick 
glance,  not  with  the  lady  whose  interests  he  was 
representing,  but  with  her  errant  lover's  faithful 
son. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Walkingshaw,  warming  to  his 
narrative,  "  I  am  literally  racing  backwards.  It 
is  like  a  drive  over  a  road  one  has  passed  along  be- 
fore, only  in  the  opposite  direction  and  much  faster. 
I  simply  whizz  past  the  old  milestones.  Now,  a 
man  who  is  behaving  like  that  has  no  business  to 
marry  an  already  mature  lady,  who  is  growing 
older  at  the  rate  of,  say  one,  while  he  is  growing 
younger  at  the  rate  of,  say  ten;  has  he,  Mr. 
Brown?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Brown  emphatically,  "  I 
honestly  don't  think  he  has." 

Heriot  was  delighted  with  this  confirmation  of 
his  judgment.  He  threw  a  glance  at  the  widow  to 
see  how  she  took  it,  but  her  eyes  were  cast  down, 
and  she  displayed  no  emotion  whatever. 

"  That  's  the  long  and  the  short  of  the  matter, 
Mr.  Brown.  I  make  the  profoundest  apologies  to 
276 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

my  charming  relative ;  but  if  you  agree  that  I  acted 
for  the  best,  I  suppose  we  might  as  well  adjourn 
and  have  a  cup  of  tea. ' ' 

"  Just  one  moment,"  said  Mr.  Brown  gently. 
"  I  should  like  to  have  a  few  more  particulars  re- 
garding this  very  interesting  phenomenon,  if  you 
don 't  mind. ' ' 

"  Not  a  bit,  my  dear  sir.  It 's  a  very  natural 
curiosity. ' ' 

' '  You  feel,  of  course,  a  considerable  exhilaration 
of  spirits  in  consequence  of  this  change  ?  ' ' 

"  I  'm  simply  bursting  with  them." 

"  Naturally,  naturally.  And  you  propose,  no 
doubt,  to  exercise  your  activities  in  some  beneficial 
way?  " 

' '  In  a  dozen  ways.  I  've  already  been  the  means 
of  securing  two  happy  engagements  for  my  young- 
est children." 

' '  And  breaking  off  two, ' '  said  Andrew. 

His  father  turned  to  him  with  a  frown.  This 
was  hardly  the  support  he  expected.  To  his  great 
pleasure,  the  sympathetic  Mr.  Brown  also  disap- 
proved of  the  interruption. 

"  One  thing  at  a  time,  please,"  said  he,  and  re- 
sumed his  intelligent  inquiries.  "  These  young 
277 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

persons  to  whom  your  children  have  become  en- 
gaged—  they  are  hardly  the  matches  you  would 
have  made  at  one  time,  are  they  ?  ' ' 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  was  a  bit  of  an  ass  at  one  time, ' ' 
Mr.  Walkingshaw  confessed. 

"  I  see,  I  see.  And  now,  as  to  the  engagements 
you  have  broken  off  —  you  felt  yourself  inspired, 
prompted  from  within,  as  it  were,  to  bring  them  to 
an  end,  I  take  it?  " 

"  You  Ve  put  it  deuced  well,"  said  Heriot. 

"  Did  you  feel  in  any  way  inspired  from  with- 
out —  any  visions  or  voices,  so  to  speak,  any  mani- 
festations or  appearances  —  anything  of  that 
kind?  " 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  looked  a  little  puzzled. 

"  The  voices  of  romance  and  love,  and  that  sort 
of  thing,  I  certainly  heard." 

"  Quite  so,  quite  so,  Mr.  Walkingshaw.  You 
heard  them,  did  you?  Well,  it  's  not  every  one 
who  hears  these  things. ' ' 

He  smiled  pleasantly,  and  Mr.  Walkingshaw  be- 
came confirmed  in  his  opinion  that  this  was  quite 
one  of  the  most  agreeable  men  he  had  met  for  a 
long  time. 

"  May  I  ask  whether  you  propose  to  take  any 
278 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

more   steps  to   put  this   poor  world   of   ours   to 
rights?  "  inquired  Mr.  Brown. 

"  He  is  taking  control  of  the  business  again," 
said  Andrew. 

' '  Again  ?  ' '  retorted  Heriot.  ' '  When  did  I  ever 
lose  control  of  the  business,  I  'd  like  to  know? 
I  've  had  my  holiday,  and  now  I  'm  going  to  make 
things  hum  in  the  office. ' ' 

"  You  are  going  to  make  them  hum?  "  asked 
Mr.  Brown.  ' '  Do  you  mean  you  are  going  to  over- 
ride your  partner's  decisions,  and  so  on?  " 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Brown,  if  I  waited  for  his  deci- 
sions, I  'd  be  kicking  up  my  heels  in  the  office  half 
the  day.  Metaphorically  speaking,  my  son  is  some- 
what like  a  man  who  fills  his  bath  from  a  teacup 
instead  of  turning  on  the  tap.  I  don 't  override  his 
decisions,  I  simply  anticipate  them." 

"  That  is  his  account  of  it,"  said  Andrew  darkly. 

"  Well,  well,"  smiled  Mr.  Brown,  "  I  think  I  un- 
derstand. And  now,  Mr.  Walkingshaw,  may  I  ask 
if  there  is  anything  else  you  propose  to  do  ?  " 

This  time  he  glanced  at  Andrew,  as  if  courting 
information. 

"  He  is  altering  his  will,"  said  the  junior  part- 
ner. 

279 


THE  PKODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Ah!  "  remarked  his  visitor  again. 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  drew  himself  up. 

11  That  is  my  own  affair,"  he  said,  with  dignity. 

"  Quite  so  —  quite  so,"  replied  Mr.  Brown  in 
that  peculiarly  soothing  voice  he  had  at  his  com- 
mand. "  We  would  wish  to  make  no  inquiries  into 
that.  Only,  there  's  just  one  thing  I  'd  like  to 
know  —  you  don 't  mean  to  let  the  grass  grow  under 
your  feet,  I  take  it?  " 

' '  No  fears, ' '  said  Heriot.  ' '  What  I  mean  to  do, 
I  'm  going  to  do  at  once.  By  Jingo,  I  11  be  under 
age  in  a  few  years !  I  've  got  to  do  things 
promptly. ' ' 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  Mr.  Brown  suavely,  "  I 
think  that  is  all  I  want  to  know.  We  need  n  't  de- 
tain you  any  longer,  Mr.  Walkingshaw." 

It  struck  Heriot  that  this  was  a  funny  way  for 
the  agreeable  Mr.  Brown  to  treat  him  in  his  own 
house.  He  assumed  the  air  of  a  host  at  once. 

"  Then  we  '11  go  up  and  have  some  tea.  Come 
along,  Mr.  Brown." 

"  I  think,"  said  his  visitor  politely,  "  that  pos- 
sibly your  son  and  I  had  better  have  just  a  word 
or  two  with  this  lady  first,  if  you  '11  permit  us. ' ' 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  sir;  just  come  up  when 
you  're  ready." 

280 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

As  he  went  upstairs,  it  suddenly  struck  him  as 
rather  odd  that  her  connection  by  marriage  and 
legal  adviser  should  refer  to  Madge  as  "  this 
lady  ' ' ;  and  also  that  she  should  have  sat  so  silently 
through  a  conversation  which  primarily  concerned 
herself.  But  then  such  rum  things  did  happen  in 
this  amusing  world  that  it  was  never  worth  while 
worrying. 


281 


CHAPTER  VII 

STROKING  the  cat  and  sipping  his  tea,  Mr.  Walk- 
ingshaw  conversed  pleasantly  with  his  sister. 
Jean  and  Frank  had  gone  into  the  country,  and 
the  two  sat  alone  together  in  the  drawing-room. 

' '  Brown  ?  ' '  said  Miss  Walkingshaw.  ' '  I  never 
knew  the  Dunbars  had  a  relative  of  that  name. 
Who  will  he  be?  " 

"  I  seem  to  mind  seeing  his  face  somewhere," 
replied  her  brother,  "  but  more  about  him  I  can't 
tell  you,  except  that  he  's  a  very  pleasant  fellow. 
Hullo,  Andrew,  where  's  Brown?  " 

The  junior  partner  had  entered  alone. 

"  He  had  to  go,"  said  he. 

"  Dash  it,  he  might  have  said  good-by." 

Andrew  made  no  answer.  He  was  looking  at 
his  aunt  in  a  way  that  he  had  borrowed  from  his 
father's  bygone  manner.  Though  he  had  only  quite 
recently  begun  to  practise  it  seriously,  he  was  suf- 
ficiently expert  to  convey  unmistakably  the  fact 
that  he  desired  her  to  withdraw.  She  rose  obedi- 
ently. 

282 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Hullo,  where  are  you  off  to?  "  asked  her 
brother. 

"  I  have  things  to  do,  Heriot,"  she  answered 
nervously,  "  just  a  few  things  to  do." 

As  she  passed  Andrew  she  paused,  and  her  lips 
framed  a  question.  There  was  something  in  his 
manner  that  frightened  her;  strange  things  were 
happening,  she  felt  sure.  But  his  glowering  eye 
silenced  her,  and  she  faded  noiselessly  out  of  the 
room.  Then  Andrew  advanced  upon  his  father. 

"  Just  run  your  eye  through  that,"  he  said 
quietly. 

He  handed  his  father  a  large  double  sheet  of  blue 
foolscap  containing  a  great  deal  of  printed  matter. 
The  particular  portion  of  it  to  which  Mr.  Walk- 
ingshaw's  attention  was  directed  ran  thus  — 

"  CERTIFICATE  OF  EMERGENCY 
"  (This  certificate  authorizes  the  detention  of  a 
Patient  in  an  Asylum  for  a  period  not  exceeding 
three  days,  without  any  order  by  the  Sheriff. ) 

"  I,  the  undersigned  George  William  Downie, 
being  M.D.,  Glasgow,  hereby  certify  on  soul  and 
conscience,  that  I  have  this  day  at  15,  Roray  Place, 
in  the  County  of  Edinburgh,  seen  and  personally 
examined  James  Heriot  Walkingshaw,  and  that 
283 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

the  said  person  is  of  unsound  mind,  and  a  proper 
Patient  to  be  placed  in  an  Asylum,  and  is  in  a  suf- 
ficiently good  state  of  bodily  health  at  this  date  to 
be  removed  to  the  Asylum. 

"  And  I  hereby  certify  that  the  case  of  the  said 
Person  is  one  of  emergency." 

It  was  then  dated,  and  signed,  "George  W. 
Downie. " 

"Asylum  —  Dr.  Downie!"  gasped  Heriot. 
"  But  — what  is  this?  " 

"  It  says  on  the  paper.  Just  look  —  can't  you 
read?  " 

Heriot  gave  a  convulsive  start. 

"  Was  — was  that  Dr.  Downie?  " 

His  son  nodded. 

Again  Heriot 's  startled  eyes  ran  over  the  cer- 
tificate, and  then  they  turned  upon  his  son.  It  is 
regrettable  that  his  next  words  were  not  more 
worthy  of  his  reputation. 

"  You  d d  young  skunk!  " 

"  It  's  no  use  swearing,"  his  son  replied  coldly. 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  fell  back  in  his  chair  and 
seemed  to  meditate. 

"  You  wired  to  Glasgow  for  him?  "  he  inquired 
in  a  moment. 

"  I  did." 

284 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  So  that  I  shouldn't  recognize  him,  I  sup- 
pose? " 

"  Naturally." 

"  What  a  sell  if  I  'd  spotted  him  and  talked 
what  the  silly  fool  would  have  thought  sense !  ' ' 

' '  You  did  n 't, "  said  Andrew. 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  shook  his  head. 

"  Man,  I  'd  never  have  given  you  credit  for  the 
brains  to  do  the  like  of  this." 

Then  he  started. 

"  I  see  it  all  now!  It  was  Madge  put  you  up 
to  the  idea!  Eh?  Oh,  you  needn't  trouble  to 
deny  it ;  I  know  you  have  n 't  the  imagination 
yourself. ' ' 

With  a  calmer  air  he  studied  the  paper  afresh. 

"  It  's  only  for  three  days,"  he  observed  in  a 
cheerier  tone. 

"  Do  you  actually  imagine  you  're  likely  to  get 
out  at  the  end  of  three  days  ?  ' ' 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  looked  at  his  son  steadily. 

"  You  know  perfectly  well  that  every  word  I 
said  was  true." 

Andrew  remained  coldly  immovable. 

"  I  am  no  judge  myself.  I  'd  sooner  depend  on 
Dr.  Downie's  opinion." 

"  Hypocrite  to  the  last !  "  scoffed  Heriot.  "  Can 
285 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

you  look  me  in  the  face,  Andrew,  and  tell  me  that 
you  honestly  thought  it  was  insanity  to  make 
friends  of  my  children  and  help  them  to  marry  the 
people  they  loved,  and  divide  my  money  fairly 
among  you  all?  Can  you?  " 

"  Permit  me  to  remind  you  that  it  was  not  I 
who  signed  the  certificate." 

There  was  a  moment's  very  dead  silence,  and 
then  Heriot  asked  — 

"  Then  do  you  actually  mean  to  shut  me  up  in 
a  lunatic  asylum  for  the  rest  of  my  days  ?  ' ' 

Andrew  had  some  of  the  finer  points  of  the  legal 
mind.  He  noted  the  trace  of  emotion  in  his  fath- 
er's voice,  and  knew  he  was  fairly  on  top  at  last. 
To  let  this  fact  sink  still  further  into  Heriot 's  mind, 
he  eyed  him  in  austere  silence  for  a  few  moments 
before  he  answered  — 

"  If  I  have  to,  I  shall." 

' '  If  you  have  to  ?    What  d  'ye  mean  ?  ' ' 

"  I  mean  that  I  am  not  going  to  have  my  busi- 
ness ruined — " 

' '  Ruined !  Can  you  not  stick  to  the  truth  on  a 
single  point  ?  I  am  putting  new  life  into  it !  " 

"  I  don't  care  for  your  kind  of  life,  thanks," 
said  Andrew  primly,  "  and  I  repeat  that  I  am  not 
going  to  have  my  business  —  enlivened,  if  that  's 
286 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

how  you  choose  to  put  it,  and  my  family  disgraced, 
and  my  reputation  lost;  and  if  I  let  you  go  on 
another  day  as  you  've  been  going,  it  11  be  too  late 
to  save  any  of  them.  But  I  don't  want  to  be 
harder  than  I  can  help."  He  paused  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  his  lip  grew  longer  and  straighter.  ' '  So 
I  '11  offer  you  an  alternative. ' ' 

"  Well?" 

' '  If  you  '11  guarantee  to  clear  out  of  the  country 
and  not  come  back  again,  I  '11  take  no  further 
proceedings  on  the  strength  of  this  certificate. 
I  don't  want  to  put  you  in  an  asylum  any  more 
than  you  want  to  go,  but  I  've  got  to  protect  my- 
self." 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  mused. 

"  "When  do  you  want  me  to  start?  " 

"  At  once." 

"At  once!" 

"  Yes,  at  once,  before  you  see  anybody  else." 

"  I  'm  not  even  to  say  good-by  ?  ' ' 

"  No." 

"  You  've  got  some  game  on,"  said  Heriot. 

"  I  've  got  to  protect  myself  and  my  family." 

His  father  looked  at  him  searchingly;  but  his 
face  remained  a  solemn  medallion  of  virtue.  Then 
Mr.  Walkingshaw  again  fell  back  in  his  chair  and 
287 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

mused.  Gradually  the  flicker  of  a  smile  appeared 
in  his  eye.  It  spread  to  his  lips,  and  he  sprang  up 
cheerfully. 

"It  's  not  half  a  bad  idea!  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  I  'm  just  getting  to  the  age  when  a  young  man 
ought  to  go  about  a  bit  and  see  something  of  the 
world.  New  Zealand  now  —  that  's  a  fine  coun- 
try—  or  Japan  —  or  Texas.  By  Gad,  you  know 
I  've  several  times  wanted  to  do  a  bit  of  roughing 
it  and  big  game  shooting  lately. ' ' 

His  son  looked  at  him  suspiciously.  This  cheer- 
fulness was  unusual  in  people  he  had  worsted,  and 
the  unusual  was  always  to  be  distrusted.  But  to 
the  less  vigilant,  ordinary  mind  Mr.  Walkingshaw 
merely  presented  the  spectacle  of  a  man  of  young 
middle-age  with  a  heart  some  ten  years  younger 
still. 

' '  Of  course  it  will  be  a  wrench, ' '  he  added,  with 
a   sobered   air.    "  I  '11    miss    'em    all:    Frank  — 
Ellen  —  Jean.    By  Gad,  I  shall  miss  Jean.     How- 
ever, it  need  only  be  for  a  year  or  two.     Meanwhile 
—  by  Jingo,  there  's  no  doubt  about  it !  —  this  is 
the  chance  of  my  life.     Let  's  see  now,  what  does 
one  need?     A  revolver  with  six  thingamajigs  — 
top-boots    and    riding    breeches  —  a    good    com- 
pass— " 

288 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

The  chill  voice  of  Andrew  interrupted  this  cata- 
logue. 

"  Once  you  go  away,  you  've  got  to  stay 
away. ' ' 

"  Stay  away!  " 

"  Your  allowance  will  depend  on  that." 

' '  My  allowance !  ' '  gasped  Heriot. 

"  Your  estate  has  got  to  be  administered  by  me 
just  as  though  you  were  "  (instinctively  this  pious 
young  man's  face  grew  solemn)  "  taken  away  from 
us." 

' '  I  wish  I  were  not  your  father, ' '  sighed  Heriot. 
' '  In  happier  circumstances,  the  pleasure  of  kicking 
you  would  just  be  immense." 

Andrew  disliked  physical  brutality.  His  cheeks 
grew  flabbier  at  the  very  idea  of  such  an  outrage  — 
even  in  theory. 

"  If  you  were  to  try  anything  of  that  kind,  I 
warn  you  I  'd  withdraw  my  alternative." 

His  father  laughed  reassuringly. 

' '  Oh,  you  need  n  't  keep  your  back  against  the 
bookcase:  I  '11  leave  the  job  for  some  luckier  devil." 

A  thought  struck  him. 

"  By  the  way,  I  've  promised  to  give  Jean  and 
Frank  enough  to  keep  them  going.  You  '11  see  to 
that?  " 

"  289 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  I  '11  carry  out  the  provisions  made  when  you 
were  in  your  right  mind. ' ' 

"  What  provisions?  " 

"  The  terms  of  your  will." 

Mr.  Walkingshaw  looked  at  his  son  steadily  and 
in  silence.  After  a  full  minute  under  this  stare 
Andrew  began  to  grow  uneasy. 

' '  There  's  to  be  no  more  nonsense,  I  warn  you, ' ' 
he  said. 

"  You  mean  either  to  rob  your  brother  and  sis- 
ter of  their  money,  or  revenge  yourself  by  stopping 
their  marriages  ?  By  Heaven,  Andrew  — 

He  broke  off  and  plunged  into  meditation.  Then 
his  eyes  began  to  smile,  though  his  lips  were  now 
compressed. 

' '  Very  well, ' '  he  murmured. 

His  son  still  felt  a  vague  sense  of  apprehension. 

' '  Mind,  you  Ve  got  to  stay  abroad. ' ' 

"  For  ever?  " 

"  You  must  give  me  your  word  you  won't  come 
back  for  two  years  certain,  and  after  that  you  lose 
your  allowance  if  you  land  in  Great  Britain  or 
Ireland." 

"  Including  the  Channel  Islands?  " 

' '  Including  them. ' ' 

"  I  see  your  game,"  smiled  Heriot.  "  But  I 
290 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

give  you  my  word.     Poor  Jean,  poor  Frank — " 

"  You  're  not  even  to  write  to  them,"  inter- 
rupted Andrew. 

Mr.  "Walkingshaw  stroked  his  chin  meditatively. 

"  I  agree  to  that,"  he  said.  "  Any  more  con- 
ditions? " 

The  smile  that  prevailed  in  his  discomfited  par- 
ent's eye  perturbed  the  junior  partner.  He  warily 
scanned  all  possible  loopholes. 

"  You  're  not  to  communicate  with  Madge  Dun- 
bar." 

"  God  forbid!  "  said  Heriot  fervently. 

"  Nor  my  aunt." 

"  Bless  her,  poor  soul;  no  fears  of  that." 

"  I  think  that  's  all,"  said  Andrew  reluctantly. 

So  long  as  those  eyes  continued  to  look  at  him 
like  that,  he  desired  to  pile  condition  on  condition. 
But  the  overwhelming  advantages  of  being  encum- 
bered with  no  imagination  occasionally  —  very  oc- 
casionally—  have  compensating  drawbacks.  He 
could  imagine  nothing  else  to  be  guarded  against. 

"  Then  I  'd  better  pack  and  be  off." 

"  You  had,"  said  Andrew. 

Just  as  he  was  leaving  the  room,  Heriot  turned 
and  asked  — 

"  You  've  heard  of  changelings?  " 
291 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Andrew  stared. 

"  Do  you  not  mind  hearing  of  goblins  that  get 
put  into  cradles  instead  of  the  real  babies?  That 
accounts  for  you.  Thank  the  Lord,  I  need  never 
again  claim  the  discredit  of  begetting  you !  ' ' 


292 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  LUGGAGE-LADEN  cab  clattered  over  the  granite 
cubes  and  passed  out  of  the  ring  of  tall  mansions 
and  the  shadow  of  the  stately  trees  within  the  gar- 
den. The  career  of  Heriot  Walkingshaw,  W.S., 
was  ended,  and  shocked  respectability  could  lower 
again  her  up-rolled  eyes  and  see  nothing  more  out- 
rageous than  a  prowling  cat.  May  her  troubles 
always  end  as  happily !  Undoubtedly,  had  the  full 
facts  been  there  and  then  made  public,  a  statue  of 
the  junior  partner  (completely  clad)  would  have 
adorned  that  decorous  garden. 

But  his  modest  reticence  was  remarkable.  He 
stood  in  the  somber  hall  listening  intently  to  make 
sure  that  the  cab  really  did  ascend  the  steep  street 
towards  the  station,  when  his  ally,  after  peering 
over  the  banisters,  ran  downstairs  to  meet  him. 
He  was  just  heaving  a  deep  sigh  of  relief. 

' '  Did  some  one  go  away  in  a  cab  ?  ' '  she  asked. 

He  looked  at  her  sharply. 

"  Quite  possibly." 

In  her  eyes  gleamed  a  sudden  hint  of  suspicion. 
293 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHEE 

"  WasitHeriot?  " 

He  took  his  time  before  answering  very  deliber- 
ately— 

"It  was." 

* '  Where  is  he  going  ?  ' ' 

Again  he  paused.  As  every  moment  took  hii 
father  farther  from  them,  so  every  moment  was 
precious. 

"  Can  you  not  guess?  " 

"What!"  she  cried.  "You're  actually  put- 
ting him  into  an  asylum?  " 

"  It  's  the  best  place  for  him." 

She  seized  his  arm. 

' '  Did  you  give  him  the  alternative  ?  ' ' 

With  a  chaste  movement  he  withdrew  the  arm. 

"  I  gave  him  an  alternative,  certainly." 

Her  black  eyes  seemed  to  pierce  into  his  brain. 
He  disliked  being  looked  at  like  that  exceedingly. 

"  Our  alternative?  " 

"  Our?  "  he  questioned. 

"  The  alternative  we  discussed  last  night?  " 

"  We  discussed  a  good  many  things." 

She  kept  following  him  up  till  his  back  was 
nearly  against  the  front  door. 

"  Did  you  offer  him  the  alternative  of  keeping 
his  promise  to  me?  " 

294 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Look  out,"  he  muttered.  "  Some  of  the  serv- 
ants may  be  coming." 

"Did  you?  " 

' '  Would  you  marry  a  man  that  's  off  his  head  ?  ' ' 

' '  He  is  n 't  ;  he  was  only  pretending !  ' ' 

"  That  's  not  what  Dr.  Downie  thought." 

"  Dr.  Downie !     What  did  he  know !  " 

"  He  certified  him." 

He  was  backed  against  the  front  door  now. 

' '  Did  you  offer  Heriot  that  alternative  ?  ' ' 

He  paused  for  a  moment.  Heriot  must  be  at  the 
station  by  now,  and  he  had  not  many  spare  min- 
utes before  the  train  started. 

' '  No,  I  did  not, ' '  he  answered. 

The  sympathetic  widow's  hand  shot  out;  there 
was  a  smack  and  then  a  thud.  The  smack  was 
caused  by  a  momentary  encounter  between  the  hand 
and  his  spherical  cheek,  the  thud  by  a  meeting  of 
his  head  and  the  door. 

' '  You  miserable  creature !  ' '  she  hissed. 

With  a  look  such  as  only  the  righteous  can  ever 
hope  to  wear,  and  that  in  the  moment  of  martyr- 
dom, he  watched  her  rush  upstairs  sobbing. 

And  thus  the  coalition,  having  served  its  benefi- 
cent purpose,  came  abruptly  to  an  end.  A  great 
deal  might  be  written  in  this  connection,  adducing 
295 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

this  instance  to  illustrate  the  wider  fields  of  state- 
craft, but  unfortunately  the  present  narrative  is  a 
simple  record  of  facts,  and  not  a  philosophical 
treatise.  The  immediate  consequence  of  the  epi- 
sode was  that  on  the  following  morning  Mrs.  Dun- 
bar  set  out  for  the  west  of  Ross-shire  to  pay  a  long- 
promised  visit  to  a  third  cousin  who  possessed  sev- 
eral thousand  acres  of  moorland  in  that  vicinity. 


296 


CHAPTER  IX 

IT  was  on  the  following  morning  that  Jean  and 
Frank  returned,  their  faces  glowing  with  country 
sunshine  and  spring  wind,  their  hearts  quickened 
with  anticipation.  In  the  train  coming  home  they 
had  exchanged  many  confidences.  Could  he  possi- 
bly manage  to  get  married  before  he  went  out  to 
India?  Frank  wondered.  Would  Lucas  have  to 
wait  till  he  had  sold  a  few  more  pictures  ?  wondered 
Jean.  He  ran  whistling  up  the  steps  and  rang  the 
bell.  She  burst  radiantly  into  the  somber  hall. 
And  then,  at  twelve  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  an 
ordinary  working  week-day,  they  found  the  junior 
partner  at  home  to  receive  them.  Such  a  portent 
had  never  before  been  seen. 

"  Where  's  father?  "  asked  Jean. 

Andrew 's  cheeks  twitched  nervously ;  yet  on  the 
whole  he  maintained  a  compassionate  expression 
highly  honorable  to  his  fraternal  instincts.  In  a 
hushed  voice  he  addressed  his  sister. 

' '  I  want  to  have  a  word  with  you, ' '  said  he. 

He  took  her  apart  from  her  brother  and  shut 
297 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

the  library  door  securely.  Frank  was  such  a  hot- 
tempered  young  fellow;  and  he  had  suffered  one 
physical  outrage  already.  In  a  voice  as  appropri- 
ate as  his  face  he  gently  broke  the  news  — 

"  Our  father  has  been  removed  to  an  asylum." 
' '  Removed  —  to  an  asylum !  ' '  gasped  Jean. 
She  did  not  strike  him,  but  on  the  whole  he  was 
even  more  glad  when  that  interview  came  to  an  end 
than  when  he  saw  the  widow's  muscular  back  at 
last  turn  from  the  front  door. 

A  few  days  afterwards  a  tall  man  in  a  sports- 
manlike ulster  walked  up  the  gangway  of  a  steam- 
ship bound  for  a  port  in  South  America.  He  was 
followed  on  board  by  a  friend  with  very  blue  eyes 
and  a  cavalier  mustache.  They  talked  for  a  few 
minutes  and  then  shook  hands  affectionately. 

"  Well,  Lucas,  good-by,  old  fellow,"  said  the 
passenger.  "  And  remember  now  what  you  're  to 
to  tell  them.  They  're  not  to  drop  a  hint  —  not  a 
whisper  of  what  they  know.  Just  keep  your  tails 
up  all  of  you,  as  best  you  can.  Handy  thing,  this 
revolver  we  chose.  I  must  practise  shooting  from 
the  hip  pocket.  I  say,  take  special  care  of  Jean. 
Tell  her  I  know  how  plucky  she  is  —  she  '11  be 
staunch  —  she  '11  wait.  Tell  her  I  '11  often  be 
298 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

thinking  —    Hullo,  last  bell ;  you  'd  better  get  on 
shore. ' ' 

A  little  later  the  steamer  was  in  the  middle  of 
the  gray  Thames,  bearing  Heriot,  his  fortunes,  and 
his  six-shooter  far,  far  from  the  office  of  Walking- 
shaw  &  Gilliflower.  The  protagonist  of  virtuous 
respectability  sat  there  triumphantly  enshrined. 
He  had  done  everything  a  good  man  could  reason- 
ably be  expected  to  do;  only  he  had  not  imagined 
Lucas  Vernon  waving  a  farewell  to  his  late  partner. 


299 


PART  V 


CHAPTER  I 

EVEN  in  the  heyday  of  Mr.  Walkingshaw 's  ca- 
reer, when  he  was  most  conspicuously  an  example 
to  his  fellow-citizens,  revered  by  the  young  and 
applauded  by  the  old,  there  were  to  be  found  cer- 
tain austere  critics  who  held  that,  for  themselves, 
the  character  of  Andrew  presented  the  more  chaste 
ideal.  Exemplary  though  his  father's  life  had 
been  (up  to  that  fatal  illness),  there  was  always 
a  latent  vein  of  geniality  in  his  character,  a  remi- 
niscence of  good  living  in  his  ruddy  countenance, 
a  brightness  in  his  eye,  that  suggested  possibilities ; 
and  even  a  possibility  might  conceivably,  under  cer- 
tain circumstances,  given  this  and  that  —  well,  it 
might  be  safer  away.  Whereas  Andrew's  pale 
round  cheeks  and  solemn  aspect  were  as  reassuring 
as  a  plate  of  porridge. 

These  pioneers  of  criticism  were  thought  extrem- 
ists six  months  ago;  now,  they  had  all  respectable 
society  at  their  back.  Of  course  it  was  never  a 
point  in  a  man's  favor  that  his  father  (or  indeed 
any  relative)  could  run  amuck  as  Andrew's  had 
303 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

done.  On  the  other  hand,  he  had  so  promptly  and 
fearlessly  plucked  out  the  parent  who  offended 
him,  and  behaved,  moreover,  through  all  this  tribu- 
lation with  such  becoming  solemnity,  that  he  very 
soon  began  rather  to  gain  than  to  lose  by  his  mar- 
tyrdom. Each  step  he  took  was  discretion  itself. 
His  father,  people  learnt,  had  been  quietly  removed 
to  a  retreat  for  the  mentally  infirm,  situated,  some 
said  in  Devonshire,  and  others  in  North  Wales. 
The  very  ambiguity  on  this  point  was  highly  ap- 
proved. It  argued  the  perfection  of  prudence.  As 
for  the  ungrateful  girl  who  had  jilted  him,  he  had 
talked  at  considerable  length  to  his  friends  on  that 
subject,  and  they  reported  that,  though  naturally 
grieved,  and  even  offended,  by  her  conduct,  he  was 
nevertheless  able  to  express  in  a  calm  voice  many 
Christian  sentiments;  frequently,  for  instance,  as- 
suring his  audience  that  he  forgave  her,  and  that  if 
she  preferred  to  stew  in  her  own  juice  he  was  too 
much  of  a  gentleman  to  interfere  with  her  pleasure. 
At  this  rate,  it  was  recognized  that  very  soon  noth- 
ing the  Goddess  of  Mediocrity  could  offer  would  be 
beyond  his  reach.  She  had  many  worshipers,  but 
unquestionably  Andrew  "Walkingshaw  looked  like 
her  favorite. 

He  himself  was  modestly  disposed  to  agree  with 
304 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

this  opinion.  Keally,  the  success  of  his  prompt 
procedure  had  been  remarkable.  From  his  two 
sensible  married  sisters  he  had  never  anticipated 
trouble,  and  they  had  loyally  fulfilled  his  expecta- 
tions. With  both  he  held  private  consultations, 
and  each  accepted  his  version  of  the  facts  without 
a  single  unnecessary  or  disquieting  question.  They 
knew  they  could  trust  Andrew.  But  what  did  sur- 
prise him  was  the  calmness  into  which  the  impotent 
indignation  of  Frank  and  Jean  subsided.  Within 
three  days  they  were  converted  from  volcanoes  to 
icebergs.  It  was  a  condition  too  frigid  to  give  him 
unalloyed  delight,  yet  all  things  considered  he  could 
not  but  think  it  exceedingly  encouraging. 

"  I  presume  you  don't  intend  to  give  either  of 
us  a  marrying  allowance?  "  said  Frank,  interrupt- 
ing with  this  practical  inquiry  the  guarded  narra- 
tive of  his  elder  brother. 

"  If  I  could  feel  it  in  any  way  to  be  my  duty  — " 

Frank  interrupted  him  again. 

"  But  you  don't;  what?  " 

"  No,  Frank,  I  may  tell  you  candidly  — " 

For  the  third  time  the  soldier  cut  in  — 

"  And  I  may  tell  you  candidly  that  of  all  con- 
temptible hounds  I  've  ever  had  the  misfortune  to 
meet,  you  're  the  most  despicable. ' ' 
20  305 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

That  concluded  the  conference;  and  judging 
from  Jean's  pointed  neglect  of  any  opportunities 
for  consultation  with  which  Andrew  provided  her, 
he  gathered  that  Frank  had  sufficiently  expressed 
her  opinion  also.  It  was,  no  doubt,  painful  to  see 
oneself  thus  misjudged,  but  at  the  same  time  he 
could  not  feel  too  thankful  for  their  abstinence  from 
any  further  inquiry  regarding  their  father's  fate. 
At  first  this  lack  of  curiosity  struck  him  as  almost 
suspicious,  but  he  was  reassured  by  his  conviction 
of  their  depravity.  While  their  father  was  favor- 
ing them,  they  made  a  fuss  about  him :  now  that  he 
could  favor  them  no  more,  their  feigned  affection 
for  him  disappeared,  and  all  they  thought  of  was 
reviling  the  one  member  of  the  family  who  knew 
what  was  best  for  them.  Each  time  he  recalled 
those  monstrous  epithets  of  Frank's,  this  conviction 
deepened,  till  he  became  positively  ashamed  of 
them  for  their  indifference.  They  might  at  least 
have  gone  through  the  form  of  asking  for  some 
news  of  their  father  now  and  then,  even  if  they 
had  not  the  hearts  to  sympathize  with  his  malady. 
But  they  had  no  sense  of  decency,  those  two. 

Fortunately,  he  was  soon  relieved  of  Frank's 
society.  Some  weeks  before  his  furlough  was  up 
he  returned  to  India,  and  the  house  was  well  rid  of 
306 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

him.  A  meandering  and  indignant  letter  from 
Archibald  Berstoun  of  that  ilk,  informing  Mr.  An- 
drew Walkingshaw  (in  the  third  person)  that  he 
would  be  obliged  if  he  would  kindly  keep  his 
brother  from  trespassing  in  his  garden,  indicated 
that  the  despairing  lover  had  paid  a  farewell,  and 
surreptitious,  visit  to  his  mistress ;  but  that  was  the 
last  inconvenience  he  inflicted. 

To  add  to  Andrew's  relief,  Jean  came  to  him 
a  few  days  after  Frank's  departure  and  announced 
her  intention  of  repairing  to  London  and  adopt- 
ing the  profession  of  nursing.  In  retailing  this 
incident  to  his  friends,  her  brother  laid  particular 
emphasis  on  the  generosity  he  had  displayed  and 
the  scanty  thanks  she  had  tendered  him.  The 
financial  assistance  he  offered  her  was  ample  — 
perfectly  ample  for  all  that  a  girl  wanted;  while 
in  the  matter  of  good  advice  he  had  been  positively 
extravagant. 

"  You  11  think  well  over  this,  Jean,"  said  he. 

' '  I  have  thought, ' '  she  answered  briefly. 

"  It  's  an  arduous  profession  you  're  embarking 
on,  and  a  responsible  profession,  and  an  honor- 
able profession.  It  requires —  " 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  it  requires,"  she  interrupted. 
"  It  will  be  much  better  if  you  simply  tell  your 
307 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

friends  what  you  intended  to  tell  me.     They  may 
be  impressed :  I  am  not. ' ' 

And,  like  the  obliging  brother  he  was,  Andrew 
obeyed  her  wishes  literally.  He  had  his  reward, 
for  such  of  his  friends  as  were  able  to  wait  till 
he  had  finished  his  narrative  told  him  candidly  that 
they  thought  he  had  left  nothing  unsaid,  and  that 
certainly  his  sister  ought  to  consider  herself  fortu- 
nate. In  fact,  he  only  relinquished  his  grasp  of 
their  buttonholes  when  they  had  acquiesced  in  these 
conclusions. 

The  spectacle  was  now  presented  to  the  world 
of  poor  Andrew  Walkingshaw,  bereft  of  his  father 
and  deserted  by  his  sister,  living  in  that  great  house 
in  company  only  with  his  sense  of  duty  and  his 
aunt.  People  were  very  sorry  for  him  indeed ;  they 
said  he  should  marry ;  in  fact,  such  as  enjoyed  the 
privilege  of  his  acquaintance  even  began  to  select 
suitable  young  women  for  his  approval.  Andrew 
inspected  these  candidates  gravely,  but  at  the  same 
time  let  it  be  clearly  understood  that  he  was  in 
no  hurry;  he  might  decide  to  marry,  or  he  might 
not  —  anyhow,  if  he  did,  the  lady  would  be  con- 
ferring no  favor.  It  was  left  to  your  common 
sense  to  decide  by  whom,  in  that  case,  the  favor 
would  be  conferred. 

308 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

All  this  sympathy  was  very  consoling,  but  in  a 
world  partially  compounded  of  people  less  sensible 
than  Andrew  Walkingshaw,  a  few  disappointments 
are  inevitable.  He  found  his  in  the  annoying  atti- 
tude of  two  or  three  valuable  but  wrong-headed  cli- 
ents, who  would  persist  in  making  frequent  in- 
quiries as  to  the  probable  duration  of  the  senior 
partner's  indisposition.  There  was  an  unpleasant 
sense  of  comparison  implied  in  these  questions,  a 
hint  of  preference  for  the  slap-dash,  hang-techni- 
calities method  with  which,  in  his  latter  days,  Her- 
iot  had  scandalized  aggrieved  spinsters  in  quest  of 
consolation  and  hesitating  suitors  desirous  of  hav- 
ing their  minds  made  up.  The  trouble  was  that 
these  latter  classes,  though  delightful  company  to 
one  of  Andrew's  sympathetic  disposition,  were  con- 
siderably less  remunerative  than  the  irritating  in- 
quirers ;  and  so  long  as  there  seemed  any  possibility 
of  his  father's  return  to  sanity  and  his  office,  he 
felt  that  he  could  never  regard  his  position  as 
wholly  satisfactory;  on  the  other  hand,  though  a 
sick  lion  may  possibly  be  compared  with  a  live 
dog,  a  defunct  lion  is  proverbially  out  of  the  run- 
ning. 

Andrew  thought  over  this  aspect  of  the  case 
long  and  conscientiously.  He  was  exceedingly 
309 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

truthful,  he  disliked  superfluous  butchery,  but  what 
choice  had  he  ? 

It  is  said  by  the  more  inspired  species  of  social 
reformer  that  what  good  men  deem  theoretically 
advisable  is  sure  to  happen  sooner  or  later.  In 
some  cases,  if  the  man  be  talented  as  well  as  good, 
it  happens  quickly.  Within  a  few  months  of  Jean 's 
desertion  came  the  last  touch  that  was  needed  to 
complete  the  pathos  of  her  brother's  position  and 
disarm  the  most  hostile  critic.  Among  the  deaths 
in  the  Scotsman  appeared  the  name  of  James  Her- 
iot  Walkingshaw.  Nothing  was  said  as  to  how  or 
where  he  had  died;  and,  in  fact,  the  point  was 
never  satisfactorily  settled  whether  the  sad  event 
took  place  in  North  Wales  or  Devonshire;  but,  of 
course,  the  cause  was  only  too  evident.  Well,  poor 
man,  it  was  a  mercy  the  end  had  come  as  swiftly  as 
it  had.  His  friends  were  sorry,  of  course,  but  not 
surprised  and  quite  resigned.  They  were  very 
pleased  with  the  way  his  son  took  it.  He  departed 
quietly  for  the  funeral  in  a  hatband  six  inches  wide, 
and  returned  with  a  thoughtful  and  chastened  air 
to  resume  his  daily  work.  The  interment  took 
place,  it  was  understood,  in  a  churchyard  adjacent 
to  the  retreat;  and  under  the  sad  circumstances 
people  thought  Andrew  had  done  well  to  attend  it 
310 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

unaccompanied  by  other  mourners.  In  short, 
every  circumstance  connected  with  the  tragedy 
served  to  increase  the  respect  in  which  he  was  held. 
Even  Jean's  unfortunate  omission  to  use  black- 
edged  paper  when  writing  a  few  brief  and  curi- 
ously stiff  acknowledgments  of  the  letters  of  con- 
dolence she  received,  reacted  indirectly  in  Andrew 's 
favor.  People  pitied  the  brother  of  this  unfeel- 
ing girl.  How  wounded  he  must  feel  by  her  cal- 
lousness ! 

But  the  most  satisfactory  consequence  of  all  was 
the  cessation  of  inquiries  for  any  other  Walking- 
shaw  than  Andrew.  He  considered  himself  justi- 
fied in  holding  that  this  tacitly  implied  an  admis- 
sion that  nobody  could  desire  a  better  lawyer  than 
he.  And  as  there  were  none  to  contradict  this 
assumption  (since  he  had  always  made  a  point  of 
avoiding  the  candid  critic  like  the  Devil,  the  impe- 
cunious school  friend,  and  Sunday  golf),  he  de- 
rived from  it  the  full  gratification  to  which  he  was 
entitled. 

Never,  surely,  was  there  a  more  signal  triumph 
for  the  meek.  His  brother  had  abused  him,  and  he 
was  now  broiling  in  India,  torn  for  ever  from  his 
betrothed;  his  sister  had  snubbed  him,  and  there 
she  was  homeless  in  London  slaving  in  a  hospital ; 
311 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Mrs.  Dunbar  had  smacked  his  face,  and  she  was  aa 
exile  in  the  moors  of  Ross-shire ;  and  now  here  was 
his  father,  who  had  plagued  and  despised  him,  num- 
bered in  the  list  of  the  deceased.  Alas  for  Heriot 
Walkingshaw!  He  had  despised  the  wrong  man 
when  he  despised  Andrew.  "  The  Example  is 
dead;  long  live  the  Example!  "  might  well  have 
been  inscribed  upon  his  tombstone,  had  their  friends 
been  able  to  learn  precisely  where  that  monument 
was  situated. 


312 


CHAPTER  II 

IT  is  pleasant  to  be  able  to  turn  (still  adhering 
closely  to  the  facts  as  they  occurred)  from  tomb- 
stones to  orange  blossom.  His  friends  unani- 
mously felt  that  Andrew,  having  suffered  so  much 
and  so  heroically,  should  now  obtain  the  consola- 
tion he  deserved.  Among  his  many  virtues  none 
was  more  remarkable  than  his  instinct  for  doing 
exactly  what  was  expected  of  him,  and  at  precisely 
the  right  moment.  Forthwith  he  announced  his 
engagement  to  Miss  Catherine  Henderson,  whose 
father's  residence  had  been  used  as  the  test  by 
which  Heriot  first  realized  his  disastrous  return  to 
youth.  Mr.  Henderson  was  now  defunct,  but  his 
possessions  served  a  better  purpose  than  being 
stared  at  by  a  reprobate  neighbor.  They  passed,  in 
fact,  into  Andrew's  keeping. 

The  lady  who  accompanied  them  was,  of  course, 
an  only  child,  and  the  income  of  two  thousand 
pounds  a  year  she  enjoyed  was  derived  from  such 
extraordinarily  safe  investments  that  even  the  cau- 
tious Andrew,  when  he  went  into  her  affairs  with 
313 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

a  fellow-solicitor  (on  the  week  before  he  proposed), 
remarked  at  once  that  he  saw  an  increase  of  three 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds  to  be  got  without  risking 
a  halfpenny.  As  she  was  only  four  years  older 
than  he,  there  was  no  disparity  of  years  on  this 
occasion;  while  her  appearance  effectually  guaran- 
teed her  lover  against  the  discomforts  of  rivalry. 
In  short,  she  was  generally  admitted  to  be  an  ideal 
mate  for  Andrew  Walkingshaw. 

It  was  just  eight  months  after  Heriot's  disap- 
pearance from  public  life  that  his  son  led  Miss  Hen- 
derson to  the  altar  of  St.  Giles'  Cathedral,  and 
after  a  brief  honeymoon  in  Switzerland  established 
her  in  the  stately  mansion  overlooking  the  circular 
garden.  The  fortunate  couple  had  the  further  ad- 
vantage of  overlooking  (when  the  leaves  were  off 
the  trees)  a  substantial  addition  to  their  income 
in  the  shape  of  the  bride's  late  residence,  now  let 
on  very  advantageous  terms  to  a  wealthy  relative 
of  Mr.  Ramornie  of  Pettigrew.  It  seemed  impossi- 
ble for  any  step  Andrew  took  to  avoid  being  profit- 
able. When  he  lost  an  umbrella  at  the  club,  it  was 
always  to  find  a  better  one  in  its  place.  And  the 
most  satisfactory  thing  of  all  was  the  consciousness 
that  his  prosperity  was  entirely  the  result  of  follow- 
ing the  proper  kind  of  principles. 
314 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

One  would  fain  avert  one's  eyes  from  the  spec- 
tacle presented  by  the  luckless  Ellen  Berstoun,  were 
it  not  that  her  unhappy  condition  makes  the  con- 
trast between  lax  and  proper  principles  the  more 
poignant.  No  mate  with  two  thousand  pounds  a 
year  for  her!  Instead,  merely  a  hopeless  passion 
for  an  impecunious  subaltern  sweltering  in  far-off 
India.  That  was  poor  company  throughout  the 
long  series  of  monotonous  months  that  were  now 
her  portion.  The  brown  buds  on  the  tall  beeches 
broke  into  leaf,  and  the  dark  pines  were  tipped 
with  vivid  green ;  the  leaves  withered  and  fell,  and 
the  dead  needles  littered  the  moss.  Those  were  the 
most  exciting  changes  that  happened.  Her  father 
(a  victim  of  gout)  cursed  her  and  Frank  and  An- 
drew and  Heriot  impartially.  Her  mother  sighed 
and  let  her  into  secrets  of  their  housekeeping  and 
finances  which  clearly  showed  how  selfish  she  had 
been.  Her  sisters  were  kind  upon  the  whole,  but 
dreadfully  disposed  to  talk  things  over  in  a  prac- 
tical kind  of  way. 

And  then  at  intervals  arrived  those  letters, 
very  long  and  very  loving,  and  very  full  of 
riding  and  marching  under  strange  skies,  and 
adventures  of  which  strange  dark  peoples  and 
stranger  beasts  were  the  sinister  ingredients.  They 
315 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

brightened  her  eyes  for  a  little  while,  and  then  left 
her  sadder  than  before. 

In  the  course  of  the  second  year  of  her  bereave- 
ment, the  disappointment  of  her  parents  with  her 
failure  was  converted  into  satisfaction  at  the  suc- 
cess of  her  sister  Mary.  An  astonishingly  wealthy 
shooting  tenant  in  the  neighborhood  danced  seven 
times  with  her  at  the  County  Ball,  and  proposed 
next  morning  by  letter.  He  would  have  been  ac- 
cepted by  telegram  had  Archibald  of  that  ilk  had 
his  way,  but  fortunately  the  gentleman 's  ardor  had 
not  cooled  by  the  time  the  next  post  reached  him. 
A  week  later  his  prospective  best  man  wriggled  out 
of  his  duties  by  coming  to  an  arrangement  with 
Mary 's  younger  sister  that  the  wedding  should  be  a 
double-barreled  affair,  with  two  brides  and  two 
grooms.  As  this  second  suitor  was  very  nearly 
as  rich  as  the  first,  Ellen  found  her  fate  alleviated 
by  the  entire  and  permanent  removal  of  her  pa- 
rents' displeasure.  She  became  now  a  mere  ob- 
ject of  pity,  mingled  at  times  with  contempt  for 
her  folly  in  dooming  herself  to  a  sterile  spinster- 
hood;  for  it  was  clear  that  Frank  and  she  could 
never  hope  to  marry,  however  much  writing-paper 
they  might  waste. 

Just  as  the  world  never  plumbed  the  depths  of 
316 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

dignity  and  purpose  in  Woman  till  it  saw  her 
chained  to  a  railing,  clasping  the  hated  constable 
like  a  lover,  a  hoarse  example  to  her  sluggish  sis- 
ters, so  it  can  never  realize  her  capacity  for  fool- 
ishness till  it  has  seen  her  waiting  through  weary 
years,  hoping  against  reason,  the  victim  of  illogical 
constancy  to  a  mere  young  man.  Sweet  and  gra- 
cious Ellen  Berstoun,  so  slender  and  pretty  and 
charming,  wasting  her  fragrance  in  the  old  garden 
and  the  dark  pine-woods  for  the  sake  of  certain 
passionate  memories  and  the  most  impractical  of 
day-dreams,  was  a  sight  to  make  a  philosopher 
despair. 

Undoubtedly  Andrew's  were  the  proper  princi- 
ples. 


317 


CHAPTER  III 

WITH  the  drawing  in  of  dusk  a  thin  mist  stole 
up  from  the  river  and  stealthily  crept  through  the 
streets  and  lanes  of  Chelsea.  It  was  not  yet  five 
o  'clock,  but  on  an  afternoon  in  the  depth  of  winter 
the  little  touch  of  fog  converted  dusk  to  darkness. 
The  mist  was  not  thick,  but  very  cold  and  clammy, 
and  in  the  zigzag  lane  the  lamps  were  blurred  and 
the  shadows  deep.  Two  people  left  a  bus  in  the 
King's  Road  and  turned  down  it.  He  was  broad- 
shouldered,  and  swung  along  with  a  fine  decided 
stride:  she  was  trim  and  erect,  and  very  quietly 
clad ;  her  face  was  fresh  and  bright,  a  smile  haunted 
her  eyes,  and  her  straight  little  nose  seemed  to 
breathe  independence. 

"  The  air  is  beastly  damp,"  said  he.  "I  wish 
you  'd  let  me  bring  you  in  a  cab. ' ' 

"  Nonsense,  Lucas,"  she  answered  stoutly;  "  we 
neither  of  us  can  afford  it.  You  must  learn  to  be 
sensible. ' ' 

"  But,  my  dear  girl,  I  tell  you  I  *m  beginning  to 
make  money  now." 

318 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

' '  Well,  don 't  begin  to  spend  it ;  and  then  per- 
haps you  may  have  a  little  in  the  bank  in  a  year  or 
two." 

"  A  year  or  two!  "  he  exclaimed;  "  I  11  have 
enough  in  six  months  to  — " 

She  interrupted  him  briskly. 

"  Lucas!  Don't  you  remember  we  agreed  that 
whichever  of  us  said  '  marry  '  first  should  be 
fined?  " 

"  I  never  agreed." 

' '  Then  I  shall  break  off  the  engagement. ' ' 

Yet  she  continued  walking  quickly  by  his  side 
till  they  came  to  the  studio.  He  took  out  his  key, 
but  she  stopped  short  on  the  pavement  with  a  fine 
air  of  decision. 

' '  I  won 't  come  in  unless  you  promise  to  be  more 
or  less  rational,"  she  said. 

And  then  with  the  same  air  of  decision  she  en- 
tered. 

After  a  few  minutes '  apparently  unnecessary  de- 
lay he  lit  the  gas  and  she  settled  herself  in  the  deck- 
chair  while  he  filled  the  teapot. 

"  Nursing  is  too  heavy  work  for  you,"  he  said 
suddenly. 

"  Don't  be  absurd,"  she  smiled. 

He  put  down  the  teapot,  took  her  by  the  shoul- 
319 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

ders,  and  looked  into  her  eyes,  at  once  critic  and 
adorer. 

' '  Jean !  You  can 't  deceive  me.  It 's  my  busi- 
ness to  know  how  people  sit  when  they  are  tired, 
and  what  signs  in  their  faces  show  they  are  over- 
worked. You  are  nearly  dead  beat." 

"  Only  —  only  a  very  little,  Lucas,"  she  said  less 
stoutly. 

Her  spirit  was  brave,  but  her  feet  were  weary, 
and  how  her  back  ached! 

' '  I  'm  going  to  take  you  away  from  that  infernal 
hospital,"  he  announced. 

Her  back  stiffened  again. 

"  Lucas!  you  promised  to  be  sensible." 

He  smiled  down  at  her. 

' '  I  have  the  sense  to  marry  you  —  and  do  it  at 
once,  too!  " 

She  jumped  up. 

"Lucas!" 

"Jean!  " 

He  held  her  fast. 

"  You  may  be  strong  enough  to  hold  me,"  she 
panted,  ' '  but  you  are  n  't  strong  enough  to  marry 
me  against  my  will !  " 

' '  But  why  should  n 't  we  ?    Why  the  mischief, 
why  the  dickens,  why  the  devil  not  ?  ' ; 
320 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Because  you  'd  be  bankrupt  in  a  month. 
You  've  no  sense,  dear.  Do  get  that  into  your 
head.  By  your  own  admission  you  have  only  just 
begun  to  sell  your  pictures.  Wait  and  see  whether 
it  lasts  —  wait  for  a  couple  of  years  — 

' '  A  couple  of  — !     I  won 't,  and  that  's  flat  ' ' 

"  One  year,  then." 

"  Twelve  months?     I  can't,  Jean." 

"  You  must!  " 

* '  Dare  n  't  you  risk  it  now  ?  ' ' 

She  drew  herself  back  a  little. 

' '  Lucas,  that  is  n 't  fair.  I  dare  do  anything  — 
except  come  to  you  without  a  penny,  and  probably 
ruin  you.  If  I  had  even  twenty  pounds  a  year  to 
bring  you,  I  'd  risk  it;  but  you  know  quite  well 
that  if  I  marry  against  Andrew's  wishes  any  time 
within  seven  years  I  forfeit  everything." 

"  If  I  killed  Andrew,"  asked  the  painter  grimly, 
' '  who  would  his  money  go  to  ?  " 

"  Wait!  "  she  said,  her  spirit  smiling  through 
her  eyes.  "  Don't  you  trust  father  to  help  us 
somehow  —  some  time  or  other  ?  ' ' 

He  twisted  his  mustache  desperately  upwards. 

"  I  want  to  help  myself." 

She  smiled  openly  now. 

"  You  can't  be  trusted  yet;  you  're  so  greedy!  " 
21  321 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

He  laughed,  but  a  little  wryly. 

"  It  's  because  I  'm  starving." 

' '  Then  work,  work !  ' '  said  Jean. 

' '  I  can 't  work  harder, ' '  he  answered  more  philo- 
sophically. "  I  can  only  sell  faster." 

"  And  you  're  doing  that  too,"  she  said  encour- 
agingly. 

They  needed  all  the  encouragement  they  could 
snatch,  these  two  perverse  and  desperate  lovers. 
People  who  lack  the  sense  to  provide  themselves 
with  an  income  after  falling  in  love  generally  do. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour,  one  of  those  galloping 
hours  that  fly  swifter  than  ten  ordinary  minutes, 
they  passed  out  into  the  lane  again.  The  mist  was 
now  so  thick  that  even  when  the  way  grew  straight 
they  could  see  no  more  than  two  lamps  ahead,  and 
it  was  very  chill  and  damp. 

* '  I  '11  hail  a  cab  as  soon  as  I  see  one. ' ' 

"  I  won't  drive  in  it,  I  warn  you." 

He  implored,  but  she  shook  her  fair  head  reso- 
lutely. 

"  One  of  us  must  be  practical,"  she  persisted. 

"  And  the  other  in  love?  " 

She  pressed  his  hand,  but  remained  the  charm- 
ing incarnation  of  obstinacy.  He  laughed  at  last, 
though  a  little  anxiously  as  he  saw  a  fringe  of  tiny 
322 


THE  PEODIGAL  FATHER 

drops  gather  on  her  hair;  and  he  let  her  have  her 
way.  Together  they  entered  a  bus  and  slowly  rum- 
bled eastwards.  The  bus  was  full,  and  for  a  long 
time  they  sat  in  silence. 

"  It  's  quite  fine  here!  "  she  exclaimed  at  last; 
' '  we  Ve  come  out  of  the  mist  —  look  at  the  stars !  ' ' 

They  both  cheered  up  amazingly.  It  actually 
seemed  as  if  they  were  preposterous  enough  to  take 
this  ordinary  meteorological  incident  as  an  omen. 


323 


CHAPTER  IV 

"  WE  'LL  have  to  ask  the  Riviugtons,"  said 
Andrew. 

' '  And  not  the  Donaldsons  ?  ' '  inquired  his  wife. 

Andrew  reflected.  This  was  to  be  a  very  special 
dinner  party ;  quite  the  smartest  function  they  had 
given  yet.  His  sister  would  want  to  be  there, 
especially  when  she  heard  the  Ramornies  were  com- 
ing over  for  it.  On  the  other  hand,  they  knew  a 
great  many  more  distinguished  people  than 
Hector  and  his  wife  had  yet  become,  and  of  these 
they  could  only  invite  a  small  selection  to  the 
dinner  party.  It  was  a  case  in  which  principle 
clashed  with  principle. 

"'We  '11  have  Gertrude  and  Hector  too,"  he  an- 
nounced. 

He  had  just  remembered  that  Walkingshaw  & 
Gilliflower  were  briefing  Hector  in  a  forthcoming 
case,  and  that  there  had  been  some  discussion  in 
the  office  as  to  the  precisely  proper  fee  to  which, 
at  that  moment  in  his  upward  career,  he  was  en- 
titled. He  would  set  this  dinner  against  the  odd 
324 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

two  guineas  in  dispute.  That,  anyhow  was  an 
equitable  principle,  if  ever  there  was  one. 

"  And  of  course  Lord  and  Lady  Kilconquar?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Andrew. 

"  And  Sir  William  Sinclair?  " 

Andrew  nodded. 

<l  Must  we  ask  the  Mackintoshes?  " 

Andrew  frowned. 

' '  They  '11  do  for  our  next  dinner. ' ' 

That  was  not  going  to  be  quite  so  smart  a 
function. 

"  That  's  twenty-two,"  said  Mrs.  Walkingshaw. 

"  Just  the  right  number,"  replied  her  husband. 
"  It  was  what  the  Kilconquars  had  when  we  dined 
there." 

Everything  that  Andrew  had  done  was  right, 
and  his  circumstances  reflected  his  rectitude.  No 
dodging  about  devious  lanes  in  the  fog  for  him 
and  Mrs.  Walkingshaw;  no  slow  progress  in 
crowded  omnibuses;  no  Bohemian  teas  in  paint- 
smelling  studios.  The  streets  through  which  they 
passed  were  wide  and  stately,  even  if  a  trifle 
windy;  a  motor  car  whirled  them  to  their  destina- 
tion (which  was  always  the  right  place  to  be  seen 
at) ;  their  meals  were  consumed  in  sedate  Georgian 
apartments,  and  in  every  detail  would  have  satis- 
325 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

fied  a  peer.  They  moved  through  life  on  oiled  and 
noiseless  wheels,  wrapped  in  comfort  and  attended 
by  respect.  Let  no  carping  critic  say  that  the 
good  things  in  this  life  are  not  distributed  ac- 
cording to  the  most  laudable  principle.  The 
guinea-fowl  lays  where  she  sees  a  nest-egg,  and  the 
larger  it  is  the  more  does  she  deposit.  And  the 
prosperous  nest-owner  is  he  who  stays  always  be- 
side his  treasure,  gently  coaxing  the  fowl,  and 
vigilantly  guarding  against  the  least  suspicion  of 
disturbance,  theft,  or  injury.  Let  anything  hap- 
pen that  may  in  the  world  outside ;  here  is  his  post 
of  duty,  and  he  sticks  to  it. 

It  is  true  that  for  a  short  while  an  uncomfort- 
able shadow  seemed  to  cloud  the  serenity  of 
Andrew's  soul.  This  happened  about  the  second 
anniversary  of  his  late  father's  removal  from  his 
native  city  to  that  retreat  where  he  ended  his  days, 
and  was  believed  by  his  aunt  to  result  from  the 
painful  memories  evoked  by  his  recollection  of  the 
date.  It  is  certain  that  his  serenity  returned  with 
each  succeeding  week,  till  by  this  time,  when  several 
months  had  passed,  he  had  thrown  off  his  anxiety 
altogether.  He  remained  perhaps  a  little  more 
constantly  vigilant  than  before  —  even,  for  in- 
stance, when  coming  home  from  church;  but  it 
326 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

seemed  now  he  had  rather  the  alertness  of  the 
coastguardsman  than  the  tension  of  the  sailor  when 
the  decks  are  cleared  for  action. 

It  is  impossible  to  imagine  a  more  ideal  scene 
of  domestic  felicity  than  that  presented  by  Andrew 
and  his  spouse  this  evening.  The  room  had  been 
redecorated  and  partially  refurnished  by  its  new 
mistress.  As  she  never  expressed  any  opinion 
without  quoting  a  competent  authority,  her  hus- 
band at  once  took  into  respectful  consideration  her 
suggestion  that  fashionable  people  no  longer 
dangled  a  cut-glass  chandelier  from  their  ceiling, 
and  always  had  colored  tiles  in  their  hearths. 
When  she  further  suggested  that  it  should  be  her 
privilege  to  effect  these  and  other  improvements 
out  of  the  dowry  she  was  bringing  him,  he  passed 
from  consideration  to  consent.  So  that  the  for- 
tunate couple  were  now  mounted  in  a  setting 
worthy  of  their  price. 

Sitting  at  a  Sheraton  table  in  a  semi-evening 
toilet  that  had  cost  her  forty  guineas,  writing  the 
names  of  some  twenty  of  their  most  eminent  fel- 
low citizens  in  the  spaces  on  the  invitation  cards, 
Catherine  impressed  her  husband  favorably  —  en- 
tirely favorably.  A  very  satisfactory  mate  indeed 
he  considered  her.  One  could  not  imagine  her  pale 
327 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

eyes  winking,  or  a  saucy  smile  on  her  thin  lips,  or 
anything  but  the  plainest  common  sense  coming  out 
of  them.  Yes,  she  was  very  satisfactory.  It  is 
true  that  he  had  once,  in  a  burst  of  confidence, 
confided  to  one  of  his  friends  that  she  was  ' '  Awful 
skinny,"  but  it  is  wonderful  how  far  forty  guineas 
will  go  towards  modifying  that  defect.  In  short, 
she  was  —  well,  satisfactory.  When  one  has  se- 
cured the  right  adjective,  why  change  it? 

Andrew's  complacency  was  completed  by  the 
presence  of  his  aunt.  He  still  kept  her  with  him 
as  a  kind  of  perpetual  testimonial  to  his  solid 
worth.  Her  mere  presence  proved  he  was  a  kind 
and  hospitable  nephew;  and  on  the  least  prov- 
ocation she  would  enlarge  upon  his  virtues  in  a 
way  that  was  most  pleasant  for  a  visitor  to  hear. 
At  other  times  she  kept  discreetly  in  the  back- 
ground, just  as  she  had  all  her  life.  There  was 
also  this  further  advantage:  that  her  legacy  was 
much  more  satisfactorily  employed  in  defraying 
(at  her  own  desire,  of  course)  some  portion  of  her 
nephew's  increasing  expenses,  than  going  into  the 
pocket  of  a  worthless  landlord  or  hydropathic 
company. 

Andrew  was  glancing  through  an  evening  paper, 
and  his  aunt  conscientiously  studying  that 
328 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

morning's    Scotsman.     Suddenly    she    exclaimed: 

"  The  Crornarty  Highlanders  have  come  to 
Glasgow!  " 

Andrew  stared  at  her. 

"  Not  the  second  battalion?  " 

'  *  Yes,  Frank 's  regiment. ' ' 

"  But  they  weren't  to  leave  India  for  three 
years  yet." 

Mrs.  Andrew  looked  over  her  shoulder. 

"  Oh,  I  saw  they  'd  been  ordered  home  some 
time  ago." 

"  You  didn't  mention  it  to  me,"  said  Andrew. 

She  looked  a  little  surprised,  for  she  knew  that 
Frank 's  wras  not  a  name  mentioned  in  that  house. 

' '  I  did  n  't  think  you  'd  be  interested. ' ' 

' '  I  am  not  in  the  least, ' '  replied  her  husband. 

His  eye  reproved  her  coldly.  She  exchanged 
with  his  aunt  one  of  those  sympathetic  glances 
that  pass  between  indulgent  but  comprehending 
women.  "  He  is  a  noble  creature,  but  at  moments 
a  little  inconsistent, ' '  they  mutually  confided.  And 
then  she  wrote  the  names  of  Lord  and  Lady  Kil- 
conquar  on  their  card. 

And  that  is  how  Jean  might  have  been  spend- 
ing her  evenings  too,  had  she  had  proper  prin- 
ciples. 

329 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  gentlemen  entered  the  drawing-room,  bring- 
ing a  faint  aroma  of  Andrew's  excellent  cigars. 
The  ladies'  conversation  died  away  to  the  whis- 
pered ends  of  one  or  two  stories  too  interesting 
to  be  left  unfinished,  and  then  with  a  deeper  note 
and  on  manlier  topics  the  flood  of  talk  poured 
on  again. 

It  had  been  a  most  successful  dinner  —  soup 
excellent,  fish  first-rate,  everything  good.  Of 
course  the  wines  were  unexceptionable,  while  the 
company  recognized  itself  as  a  homogeneous  speci- 
men of  all  that  was  best  in  the  city  —  with  the 
Ramornies  of  Pettigrew  thrown  in.  Here  they 
were  now,  the  whole  twenty-two  of  them  from  old 
Lord  Kilconquar,  most  eminent  of  judges,  down  to 
that  rising  young  Hector  Donaldson,  bearing  im- 
plicit testimony  to  the  status  of  Andrew  Walking- 
shaw.  He  stood  there  beside  Lady  Kilconquar 's 
chair  gravely  discoursing  on  a  well-chosen  topic  of 
local  interest  and  bending  solemnly  at  intervals  to 
330 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

hear  her  comments.  You  could  see  at  once  from  the 
attitude  of  all  who  addressed  him  that  he  was 
recognized  as  far  from  the  least  distinguished 
member  of  the  company.  He  had  touched  the 
very  apex  of  his  career. 

"  Hush,  Andrew,"  murmured  his  wife.  "  Mrs. 
Rivington  is  going  to  sing." 

Hector  opened  the  piano,  and  Mrs.  Rivington 
sat  down  and  touched  the  keyboard.  Then  she 
looked  around  for  silence,  and  it  fell  completely. 
All  the  eye-witnesses  present  are  agreed  that  it 
was  in  the  moment  of  this  pause  that  the  draw- 
ing-room door  opened,  and  they  heard  the  butler 
announce  the  name  of  Mr.  Walkingshaw. 

The  company  turned  with  one  accord  and  beheld 
a  tall  youth,  attired  in  tweeds,  march  confidently 
into  the  room.  In  fact,  he  seemed  so  much  at 
home,  that,  though  naturally  surprised  (especially 
at  his  unorthodox  costume),  they  never  dreamt  of 
any  but  the  most  obvious  and  simple  explanation. 
They  scrutinized  him  as  he  advanced,  merely  won- 
dering- what  cousin  —  or  could  it  be  brother  ?  —  he 
was. 

"  Surely  that  's  not  Frank?  "  murmured  Lord 
Kilconquar. 

It  certainly  was  not  Frank;  and  yet  it  was 
331 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

some  one  who  looked  strangely  familiar  to  one 
or  two  of  the  older  people  present.  He  made 
straight  for  Andrew,  his  hand  outstretched. 

' '  Don 't  you  know  me  ?  "  he  asked ;  and  the 
voice  recalled  strange  memories  too. 

Andrew  was  not  altogether  unprepared  for  some 
such  apparition  appearing  some  day,  though 
scarcely  on  such  a  horribly  ill-timed  occasion. 
Somehow,  he  had  always  imagined  the  dread  pos- 
sibility as  happening  in  his  office.  But  he  re- 
membered exactly  how  he  had  decided  to  confront 
it.  He  pulled  his  lip  hard  down,  his  eyes  con- 
tracted dangerously,  and  then  he  merely  shook  his 
head. 

"  What !  "  cried  the  young  man,  with  a  touching 
note  of  rebuffed  affection.  "  Don't  you  recognize 
your  own  son?  " 

Andrew's  brain  reeled.  His  mouth  fell  open, 
and  his  stare  lost  all  traces  of  formidableness. 

' '  Father !  ' '  said  the  stranger  in  a  moving  voice. 

Incoherently  Andrew  burst  out. 

' '  You  —  you  —  you  're  not  my  son !  ' ' 

His  disclaimer  seemed  so  evidently  sincere  that 

the  sense  of  the  company  was  already  in  sympathy 

with  the  victim  of  this  outrageous  intrusion,  when 

—  alas  for  him !  —  his  aunt  chose  that  fatal  mo- 

332 


ment,  of  all  others,  to  rush  out  of  her  chronic  back- 
ground. 

' '  Andrew !  ' '  she  cried,  her  cheeks  suddenly  very 
pink,  her  eyes  strangely  excited,  her  voice  trem- 
bling with  the  fervor  of  her  appeal.  "  He  must 
be  —  oh,  he  must  be !  Look  —  look  at  the  likeness 
to  your  father!  Oh,  Andrew,  what  if  it  is  ir- 
regular; surely  you  wouldn't  deny  the  living  im- 
age of  poor  Heriot!  " 

' '  By  Gad !  So  he  is, ' '  exclaimed  Lord  Kilcon- 
quar. 

A  general  murmur  instinctively  confirmed  this 
verdict.  They  wished  to  be  charitable  —  but  what 
a  family  resemblance ! 

' '  I  —  I  —  I  tell  you  it  's  a  put-up  job !  ' '  stam- 
mered their  host. 

"  Who  put  it  up,  father?  "  asked  the  strange 
youth  plaintively. 

Lord  Kilconquar  shook  his  head,  and  again  the 
startled  company  followed  his  lead. 

' '  Look,  Andrew !  ' '  cried  his  aunt,  pointing  to  a 
tinted  photograph  of  James  Heriot  Walkingshaw 
at  the  age  of  twenty,  which  hung  above  the  man- 
telpiece. "  Oh,  just  look  at  the  resemblance!  " 

The  young  man  regarded  this  work  of  art  with 
evident  emotion. 

333 


THE  PEODIGAL  FATHER 

"  My  sainted  grandfather!  "  he  murmured, 
though  quite  loud  enough  for  the  company  to  hear. 

The  poor  lady  stretched  her  thin  clasped  hands 
beseechingly  under  Andrew's  very  nose. 

' '  He  says  it  himself  —  he  says  it  himself !  ' '  she 
pleaded.  ' '  For  Heriot  's  sake,  don 't  disown  him !  ' ' 

There  was  a  rustle  of  silk,  decisive  and  ominous. 
It  was  caused  by  the  skirt  of  the  chaste  lady  of 
Pettigrew. 

"  Good-night,"  she  said. 

She  only  touched  her  brother 's  hand  with  the 
tips  of  her  fingers,  and  her  stony  glance  gave  him 
his  first  clear  vision  of  the  appalling  chasm  that 
yawned  beneath  his  feet. 

' '  Maggie !  "  he  besought  her, ' '  you  don 't  believe 
it?" 

"  Can  you  not  disgrace  yourself  quietly?  "  she 
hissed,  and  a  moment  later  was  gone. 

Andrew  realized  that  he  was  already  in  the 
chasm,  hurtling  downwards  with  fearful  velocity. 
One  after  another,  his  guests  followed  the  example 
of  his  scandalized  sister;  and  their  host  was  too 
unmanned  to  hold  up  his  head  and  carry  off  the 
partings  with  the  air  of  injured  innocence  that 
alone  might  have  given  his  reputation  another 
(though  a  feeble)  chance. 
334 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

As  they  left  the  hang-dog  figure  that  so  lately 
was  a  respected  Writer  to  the  Signet,  they  said 
to  one  another  that  all  was  over  socially  with 
Andrew  Walkingshaw.  And  it  had  been  so  public, 
so  dramatic,  that  they  feared  —  of  course  they 
hoped  against  hope,  but  still  they  feared  that  the 
fine  old  business  could  not  but  suffer  too.  In 
London  one  might  disgrace  oneself  and  yet  retain 
one's  clients;  but  could  one  here?  Well,  anyhow, 
that  and  many  other  interesting  aspects  of  the 
case  would  be  debated  by  all  Edinburgh  to-mor- 
row morning. 

Meanwhile,  the  unhappy  victim  of  fate  was  left 
alone  with  his  wife,  his  aunt,  and  his  long-lost 
offspring.  A  desperate  gesture  dismissed  Miss 
Walkingshaw;  yet,  though  she  trembled  beneath 
his  wrathful  eye,  she  could  not  refrain  from  be- 
seeching him  again  — 

"  He  must  be,  Andrew  —  he  must  be!  Just 
compare  him  with  the  picture." 

And  then  she  shrank  out  of  the  drawing-room. 

"  Leave  us,"  he  commanded  his  wife. 

Her  pale  eyes  gazed  on  him  defiantly. 

"  I  certainly  shall  not.  I  demand  a  full  explan- 
ation, Andrew!  " 

"  Go  away,  will  you !  " 
335 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

For  answer  she  sat  down  firmly  upon  the  sofa. 

"  Papa,  papa,  don't  be  rough  with  her,"  ex- 
postulated the  youth. 

Andrew  confronted  him  indignantly. 

"  That-'s  enough  of  this  nonsense!  "  he  thun- 
dered. "  What  d'ye  mean?  Who  are  you?  " 

"  Doesn't  the  voice  of  nature  tell  you?  "  the 
youth  inquired  sadly. 

"  The  voice  of  nature  be  damned!  " 

The  young  man  turned  to  the  cold  lady  on  the 
sofa. 

"  Stepmother,"  he  asked,  "  will  you  protect 
me?  " 

She  looked  at  him  at  first  stonily,  and  then  sud- 
denly more  kindly.  He  was  remarkably  good- 
looldng,  with  such  nice  bright  eyes,  and  a  manner 
difficult  to  resist. 

"  I  shall  certainly  see  that  justice  is  done  you," 
she  replied. 

The  young  man  seated  himself  beside  her  and 
took  her  hand. 

' '  Thank  you, ' '  he  murmured  affectionately. 

Andrew  swore  aloud  and  vigorously,  but  the  pale 
eyes  never  flinched. 

"  Do  you  mean  deliberately  to  tell  me  you  don't 
know  who  this  young  man  is  ?  "  she  demanded. 
336 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Put  in  that  form,  the  question  made  him  hesi- 
tate for  an  instant.  The  hesitation  did  honor  to 
his  sense  of  veracity,  but  it  finally  cost  him  the 
remains  of  his  character. 

"  You  needn't  trouble  to  answer!  "  she  cried. 
11  You  do  know  who  he  is.  Come,  you  had  better 
tell  me  all  about  it  at  once.  I  presume  you  have 
not  been  married  previously?  " 

The  youth  spoke  quickly. 

"  You  don't  think  father  was  so  scandalous  as 
not  to  marry  her?  " 

"  Did  you?  "  she  demanded. 

The  luckless  Writer  fell  into  the  trap.  It 
seemed  to  him  a  gleam  of  hope  —  a  chance  of  sav- 
ing his  precious  reputation. 

"  Er  —  ye  —  es, "  he  stammered. 

"  You  were  married?  "  she  cried. 

There  was  a  dreadful  pause,  and  then  abruptly 
she  demanded,  "  What  became  of  her?  " 

A  dark  frown  answered  this  pertinent  inquiry. 
She  turned  to  the  young  man. 

"  Do  you  know?  " 

He  seemed  to  have  some  difficulty  in  controlling 
his  voice  as  he  answered  — 

"  She  lives  in  London." 

' '  Lives !  ' '  shrieked  the  lady.     ' '  Andrew  —  you 
22  337 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

are  a  bigamist!     And  I  —  I  am  not  lawfully — " 

She  leapt  up  and  gave  him  one  terrible  look; 
and  before  he  could  speak  she  had  swept  wrath- 
fully  from  the  room. 

And  then  the  most  surprising  thing  occurred. 
Instead  of  continuing  his  filial  overtures,  the  young 
man  sank  into  the  corner  of  the  sofa  and  burst 
into  peal  upon  peal  of  boyish  laughter. 

' '  Oh,  my  dear  Andrew !  "  he  gasped.  * '  Oh,  I 
can 't  help  it  —  you  a  bigamist !  Poor  respectable 
old  blighter!  I  say,  what  a  joke!  Oh,  Andrew, 
Andrew,  my  bonny,  bonny  boy!  " 

In  silence  through  it  all,  Andrew  gazed  darkly 
down  at  the  late  Heriot  Walkingshaw. 


338 


CHAPTER  VI 

"  WHEN  you  have  finished,"  said  Andrew 
grimly. 

He  looked  a  nasty  customer  to  tackle  now,  but 
the  laugher  on  the  sofa  merely  subsided  into  a 
friendly  smile. 

"  Shake  hands,  Andrew,"  he  cried,  jumping  up. 

Andrew  placed  his  hands  behind  his  back,  and 
his  glowering  eyes  answered  this  overture. 

' '  What !  ' '  said  Heriot,  ' '  won 't  you  even  shake 
hands?  " 

Andrew  still  stared  darkly. 

' '  You  'd  rather  have  it  war  than  peace  ?  ' ' 

"  I  had  rather  conclude  this  conversation  as 
soon  as  possible." 

Heriot  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  then 
shook  his  head  with  a  smile  compounded  of  sor- 
row and  humor. 

"  You  're  a  hopeless  case,"  said  he.  "  Well, 
your  blood  be  on  your  own  head !  ' ' 

Andrew's  lip  grew  longer  and  longer. 

"  I  admit  you  've  made  a  fool  of  me,"  he  said, 
339 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  if  that  's  any  satisfaction.  But  you  '11  make 
nothing  out  of  me;  not  a  shilling,  not  a  half- 
penny. Do  you  hear  ?  ' ' 

"  Is  that  all?  " 

' '  Practically ;  but  I  may  just  as  well  point  out,  to 
let  you  see  where  you  stand,  that  as  you  have  now 
done  your  worst,  there  's  no  use  trying  on  black- 
mail or  anything  of  that  kind.  You  have  been  so 
very  clever,  you  've  thrown  away  any  hold  you 
might  fancy  you  had.  Do  you  quite  understand 
that?  " 

Heriot  began  to  smile  again,  and  Andrew's  face 
grew  grimmer. 

11  You  can  prove  nothing.  You  may  say  you  're 
my  father  if  you  like  — 

"God  forbid!"  Heriot  interrupted  devoutly. 
"  I  Ve  had  enough  of  fathering  a  bogle.  Claim 
any  sire  you  like  from  Lucifer  downwards,  but 
don't  put  the  blame  on  me.  I  won't  be  disgraced 
with  you  again ;  not  at  any  price. ' ' 

For  a  few  moments  Andrew  seemed  to  be  in 
travail  of  a  fitting  repartee.  When  it  appeared  it 
possessed  all  the  practical  characteristics  of  its 
parent. 

"  In  that  case,"  he  retorted,  "  you  had  better 
clear  out  of  my  house  as  quick  as  you  can. ' ' 
340 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

Heriot  regarded  him  with  extreme  composure. 

"  Do  you  actually  imagine  you  are  going  to  get 
off  as  easy  as  this  ?  "  he  inquired,  ' '  Man  Andrew, 
I  haven't  been  senior  partner  in  Walkingshaw  & 
Gilliflower  for  nothing.  You  're  just  a  rat  in  a 
trap.  That  's  precisely  your  position  at  this 
moment." 

' '  I  'd  be  glad  to  hear  you  explain  how  you  make 
that  out, ' '  said  Andrew. 

Heriot  smiled  humorously  as  he  produced  a 
bulky  pocket-book.  Out  of  this  he  selected  one  of 
many  letters  it  contained. 

"  Do  you  know  the  writing?  "  he  asked. 

Andrew  turned  a  thought  more  solemn,  but  his 
only  answer  was  a  wary  sidelong  glance. 

"  Don't  be  afraid  to  say.  A  hundred  people  can 
swear  to  it.  There  's  no  secret  to  be  kept. ' ' 

"It  is  my  late  father's  hand,"  said  Andrew 
gravely. 

His  guest  burst  into  a  shout  of  laughter,  and 
then  with  an  effort  pulled  himself  together  again. 

"  Read  it,"  he  said,  "  and  by  the  way,  I  may 
just  as  well  tell  you  I  've  plenty  more  like  it,  so 
there  's  no  point  in  putting  it  in  the  fire. ' ' 

Andrew  took  it  with  gingerly  suspicion,  which 
changed  into  a  different  emotion  as  he  read: 
341 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  DEAR  HARRIS, —  I  write  to  let  you  know  that 
I  have  reached  this  city  in  safety  and  am  slowly 
recovering  from  the  mental  anguish  I  have  under- 
gone. As  regards  my  wretched  and  ungrateful 
son  Andrew,  I  still  disagree  with  you.  No,  Harris, 
I  cannot  bring  myself  to  expose  the  infamy  of 
my  eldest  boy  to  a  thunder-struck  world;  I  simply 
cannot  do  it.  His  immorality  and  dishonesty 
temporarily  unhinged  my  mind.  I  am  exiled 
through  his  perfidy,  but  I  forgive  him,  Harris;  I 
forgive  him.  Hoping  to  see  you  again  someday. — 
Your  unhappy  friend, 

"  J.  HERIOT  WALKINGSHAW.  " 

The  address  was  an  hotel  in  Monte  Video,  and 
the  date  about  two  years  before. 

"What  —  what's  all  this  rigmarole?"  gasped 
Andrew.  "  It  's  sheer  nonsense  from  beginning  to 
end." 

His  unwelcome  guest  was  again  shaken  with  boy- 
ish laughter. 

"  Prove  it!  "  he  cried.  "  Prove  it  's  nonsense! 
Eh?  How  '11  you  manage  that?  " 

Andrew's  face  grew  darker  and  darker. 

"  Who  does  '  Harris  '  profess  to  be,  I  'd  like 
to  know?" 

' '  Grandson  of  Mrs.  Harris !  ' '  laughed  Heriot. 


342 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  What  Mrs.  Harris?  " 

"  Sarah  Gamp's  pal." 

"  You  are  drunk,"  said  Andrew. 

Heriot  regarded  him  with  portentous  solemnity. 

"  Mr.  Harris  was  the  kind  gentleman  who  be- 
friended my  grandfather  on  his  voyage  to  South 
America.  He  received  afterwards  many  letters 
from  your  papa,  Andrew ;  and  very,  very  thought- 
fully handed  them  to  me.  They  prove,  my  boy, 
that  you  treated  your  parent  outrageously.  They 
prove  that  you  must  have  been  a  shocking  bad 
hat  yourself.  Some  of  them  prove  that  your  kind 
and  forgiving  parent  is  still  alive  at  this  moment; 
others  prove  that  he  expired  under  heart-rending 
circumstances  six  months  ago;  and  I  propose  to 
use  whichever  alternative  seems  best  —  that  's  to 
say,  whichever  will  flatten  you  out  most  effectively. 
And  that  's  who  Harris  is." 

For  some  minutes  Andrew  studied  the  letter 
in  silence.  He  felt  like  a  heavy-weight  boxer  in 
the  grip  of  a  professor  of  Ju-Jitsu.  What  use  was 
a  lifelong  apprenticeship  to  common  sense,  re- 
spectability, and  the  law  of  Scotland,  when  it  came 
to  wrestling  with  a  juggler  of  this  kind?  he  asked 
himself  bitterly.  One  ought  to  have  led  a  life  of 
crime!  The  longer  he  looked  at  the  preposterous 
343 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

epistle,  the  more  diabolical  did  it  appear.     At  last 
he  spoke  — 

' '  This  is  an  impudent  forgery. ' ' 

' '  There  are  some  hundreds  of  specimens  of  your 
father's  hand  to  compare  it  with,"  said  Heriot 
calmly;  "  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  let  any  expert 
judge  whether  it  's  genuine  or  not." 

The  heavy-weight  tried  another  wriggle. 

"  This  is  the  letter  of  a  lunatic.  I  have  a  cer- 
tificate to  prove  it.  I  can  call  Dr.  Downie  to  prove 
it." 

' '  You  need  n  't  go  to  so  much  trouble.  You  11 
find  that  plot  against  my  grandfather's  liberty 
fully  described  in  some  of  the  letters.  The  point 
that  will  be  put  to  you  by  the  cross-examining 
Counsel  is,  if  you  thought  him  off  his  chump,  why 
did  you  only  pretend  to  put  him  in  an  asylum?  " 

"  I  did  put  him,"  snapped  Andrew. 

Heriot  rose  and  rang  the  bell. 

"  What  's  that  for?  "  asked  Andrew;  but  he  was 
only  answered  by  a  smile. 

"  Show  up  the  other  two  gentlemen,"  said 
Heriot. 

The  discreet  butler  glanced  at  his  master,  but 
he  was  too  dumbfounded  to  give  any  indication  of 
his  pleasure  one  way  or  the  other. 
344 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

A  minute  later,  Frank  and  Lucas  entered.  They 
nodded  coolly,  but  Andrew  only  stared. 

"  Now,  Lucas,  dear  boy,"  said  Heriot  genially, 
"  tell  this  old  cockalorum  who  you  saw  off  on  a 
steamer  for  South  America." 

Lucas  smiled  grimly  at  his  brother-in-law  to  be. 

"  Heriot  Walkingshaw, "  he  replied. 

"  Swear  to  it?  "  smiled  Heriot. 

Lucas  nodded,  his  blue  eyes  glittering  on  Andrew 
all  the  time ;  and  there  followed  a  pause  in  the  con- 
versation. 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do?  "  asked  Andrew. 

"  Make  you  disgorge,  old  cock,"  said  Heriot. 

"  Disgorge  what?  " 

"  Every  single  penny  you  inherited!  " 

Andrew  made  a  last  convulsive  struggle. 

"  I  '11  not  do  it!  " 

"  In  that  case,  the  following  interesting  facts 
will  immediately  be  made  public :  that  you  lied  when 
you  said  your  father  was  in  an  asylum,  and  lied 
again  when  you  said  he  was  dead ;  that  he  suffered 
indescribable  agonies  in  consequence  of  your  ill- 
treatment;  that  he  is  either  alive  at  this  moment 
or  died  a  death  that  will  bring  tears  to  the  eyes 
of  all  Edinburgh ;  and  that,  in  any  case,  you  helped 
yourself  to  his  fortune  with  precisely  as  much  justi- 
345 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

fication  as  a  burglar  who  opens  a  safe.  The  matter 
will  then  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  Thompson, 
Gilray,  &  Young." 

This  choice  of  a  vindictive  rival  firm  struck 
Andrew  as  the  most  diabolical  artifice  of  all.  His 
eyes  blinked  and  his  cheeks  twitched ;  and  when  he 
spoke  his  voice  reminded  them  painfully  of  the 
professional  mendicant  of  the  pavement. 

"  Would  you  ruin  me?  " 

' '  Ruin  be  hanged !  Your  wife  has  two  thousand 
pounds  a  year,  and  you  've  got  the  lion's  share  of 
the  business.  But  you  've  got  to  shell  out  every 
brass  farthing  you  bagged  from  your  poor  dear 
father,  and  settle  it  in  equal  shares  on  Frank  and 
Jean." 

Frank  made  a  quick  movement  of  gratitude  and 
protest. 

"  Shut  up,"  said  Heriot  jovially.  "  You  mind 
your  own  business,  Frank.  This  is  my  shout. ' ' 

"My  dear  Frank — "  his  brother  began  sol- 
emnly. 

' '  Andrew !  ' '  thundered  Heriot,  ' '  if  you  make 
any  miserable  whining  appeal  to  your  brother,  I  '11 
tell  Lucas  to  kick  you.  Are  you  ready,  Lucas  ?  ' ' 

"  Quite,"  said  the  artist. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  present  head  of  "Walk- 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

ingshaw  &  Gilliflower  had  appended  his  signature 
to  the  following  document  (the  unaided  composi- 
tion of  the  late  senior  partner  in  the  aforesaid 
firm)  : 

"  I,  Andrew  Walkingshaw,  having  the  fear  of 
this  world  and  the  next  before  my  eyes,  do  hereby 
promise  and  swear  that  upon  the  morning  following 
the  above  date  of  the  month  and  year,  at  the 
hour  of  10  a.m.,  I  shall  formally,  legally,  and  ir- 
revocably settle  in  equal  shares  upon  my  brother 
and  sister,  Frank  and  Jean  Walkingshaw,  the  whole 
estate,  real  and  personal,  of  my  revered  father, 
except  such  portion  of  it  inherited  and  enjoyed  by 
my  sisters  Margaret  Walkingshaw  or  Ramornie  and 
Gertrude  Walkingshaw  or  Donaldson,  and  my  aunt 
Mary  Walkingshaw.  This  I  do  for  the  following 
consideration :  that  through  their  kindness  and 
charity  my  despicable,  unsportsmanlike,  and  crim- 
inal conduct  may  never  be  revealed.  I  humbly  and 
sorrowfully  confess  that  I  had  my  estimable  father 
aforesaid  certified  as  insane  when  I  knew  his  brain 
to  be  considerably  sounder  than  my  own;  that  I 
did  this  in  order  to  diddle  him  and  my  younger 
brother  and  sister  out  of  their  money ;  that  instead 
of  putting  him  under  restraint,  I  exiled  him  furth 
of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  so  that  he  thereby 
347 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

suffered  discomforts  and  torments  for  whose  viru- 
lence I  take  his  word;  that  I  announced  his  death 
knowing  him  to  be  alive;  and  that  I  then  in  a 
criminal  and  shameful  manner  appropriated  his 
estate  to  my  own  use.  May  all  wicked  and  foolish 
men  be  laid  by  the  heels  as  I  have  been,  and 
may  their  relatives  be  as  forgiving  as  mine !  This 
paper  I  sign  cheerfully  and  penitently. ' ' 

It  was  a  pale  and  flabby-cheeked  Writer  to  the 
Signet  who  laid  down  his  pen  after  reading  and 
signing  this  lucid  document.  He  stalked  solemnly 
to  the  door,  and  then  with  a  chastened  air  ad- 
dressed them  — 

"  May  Heaven  forgive  you." 

Thus  in  a  blaze  of  appropriate  piety  the  star  of 
Andrew  Walkingshaw  set.  There  is  small  proba- 
bility of  his  ever  becoming  an  Example  again. 
At  present  it  is  his  arduous  task  to  live  down,  by 
the  austerity  of  his  demeanor  and  the  judicious 
expenditure  of  his  wife's  income,  the  suspicions 
connected  with  the  apparition  at  his  dinner  party, 
and  his  subsequent  act  of  inexplicable  magna- 
nimity in  divesting  himself  of  his  fortune  and  hand- 
ing it  to  his  brother  and  sister.  It  is  with  the 
greatest  regret  that  the  editor  of  these  few  simple 
facts  finds  himself  unable  to  cap  with  a  suitable 
348 


reward  the  career  of  well-principled  respectability 
so  unfortunately  interrupted ;  but  his  obligations  to 
the  illogical  truth  are  peremptory. 

"  My  dear  old  boys  and  jolly  good  sportsmen, 
and  all  the  rest  of  it,"  said  Heriot  jovially,  "  don't 
mention  it  —  don 't  mention  it.  What  can  you  do 
to  show  your  dashed  gratitude?  There  's  only  one 
thing;  one  blooming  favor  I  ask  of  you:  send  me  to 
a  good  public  school!  " 


349 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  devious  lane  was  filled  with  sunshine;  the 
studio  being  lighted  only  from  the  north  was  filled 
instead  with  happiness.  The  same  two  sat  there; 
but  to-day  she  was  no  longer  so  demurely  clad  and 
all  the  aches  and  weariness  were  gone,  and  he  no 
longer  fumed. 

"  Is  this  better  than  scrubbing  the  floor  of  a 
ward?  "  he  smiled. 

"  Buying  a  trousseau  is  harder  work  than  you 
realize,  Lucas,"  she  answered,  with  that  touch  of 
reproof  by  which  all  good  women  remind  man 
gently  but  daily  that  it  is  her  part  to  suffer,  his  to 
misunderstand. 

There  followed  a  space  of  happy  silence,  and 
then  she  said  — 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  everything  would  come 
right  if  we  waited  ?  ' 

"  Yes,"  he  admitted,  "  that  was  one  of  your 
good  guesses. ' ' 

She  raised  her  delicate  brows. 
350 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Are  n't  you  happy  nowf  " 

* '  Good  heavens !     I  should  think  so. ' ' 

' '  Then  be  more  grateful,  dear, ' '  she  smiled. 

Rapturously  he  confessed  he  had  erred,  and  was 
even  sufficiently  in  love  to  think  he  perceived  how. 

' '  I  positively  must  go  now, ' '  she  said  in  a  little, 
and,  despite  his  protestations,  rose. 

"  Shall  we  walk?  "  he  asked. 

' '  Have  n  't  you  a  cab  call  ?  ' ' 

'  *  But  you  have  n 't  been  out  of  a  hansom  all  day, 
and  it  's  only  ten  minutes  — " 

"  Oh,  bother  the  expense!  "  she  cried.  "I  be- 
lieve in  being  sensibly  economical,  but  not  in  being 
close." 

Again  he  cheerfully  accepted  the  gentle  rebuke 
as  the  reproof  his  inconsistency  deserved. 

And  so  off  they  whirled  in  a  hansom. 

At  that  very  same  hour,  far,  far  to  the  north- 
ward, the  winter  sun  was  struggling  in  gleams 
through  the  pine-tops  and  falling  in  patches  on 
the  moss.  For  an  instant  one  patch  lit  the  hat 
of  straw  and  gentle  face  of  Ellen  Berstoun;  and 
though  it  was  but  a  small  patch,  it  also  lit  a  large 
tweed  cap  a  few  inches  higher  up.  Beneath  the 
cap  a  voice  murmured  — 
351 


THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER 

"  Ellen!" 

No  more  letters  came  to  her  now  from  India ;  and 
no  longer  she  walked  alone. 

These  incidents  occurred  nearly  three  years  ago. 
Since  then  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frank  Wa'lkingshaw  and 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lucas  Vernon  have  grown  into  com- 
paratively old  married  couples. 

As  for  the  genial  and  sagacious  author  of  their 
happiness,  the  latest  report  to  hand  informs  the 
present  editor  that  the  name  of  James  Heriot 
Walkingshaw  stands  first  in  the  batting  averages 
of  a  select  preparatory  school. 


THE  END 


352 


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